


Killing Boredom

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bottom Russia (Hetalia), F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, One Shot Collection, but like whatever, garbage humor, i guess, kinda dark sometimes, still no idea what's happening
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-01-02 03:51:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 36,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21155165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: this is like one of those one shot collection thingies except worse because I have no idea what I'm doingthese things are gonna range from me getting bored and then getting an idea for something kinda dark, to my lame attempt at humorI make myself laugh though, which is all that matterssome of these are just tiny ideas I had that I wrote down, and if that's the case I'll have it in the notes because they're kinda funny sometimes





	1. Somewhere New

Ivan wanted to go somewhere new. Somewhere with sunflowers and sandy beaches, the bright sun shining down on you all hours of the day, not a cloud in sight. The ocean’s salty water lapping at your legs are you stood in the shallow water, moving your feet around, searching for shells. He could hear the sound of his sisters crying out in delight as they found something, Natalia bounding over with a shell held high, Katyusha not far behind, holding onto her wide-brimmed straw hat as she struggled to keep up. Natalia wouldn’t be able to slow down and would come sprinting at Ivan, barreling into him at full speed. Katyusha would laugh as they toppled over into the water, shell lost to the waves. Ivan’s hat, one similar to Katyusha’s, though with a purple ribbon tied around it, would float away while Natalia lunged after it. Ivan would laugh as he sat up, running a hand through his now wet hair. Katyusha would help him up, the frills on her striped bathing suit ruffling in the wind. Natalia would jump up from underneath the water, shouting in glee with both the shell and hat held in her hands. Ivan and Katyusha would laugh before dragging their sister away from the water to watch the sun set, curling up together on their blanket as they ate from their picnic basket, smiles plastered across their faces.

Ivan was brought back to the present as he felt another yank on his chains. He looked up, glare already in place as he made eye contact with his master. 

Alfred grinned down at him, “Fantasising about happiness? Or was it being with your sisters again? Eh, who cares, pretty much the same thing,” Alfred shrugged, turning to face forward again, while still glancing at Ivan. It was clear he was waiting for an answer. Ivan scowled, turning his gaze back to the chains on his wrists. He refused to respond, ignoring the feeling of Alfred’s eyes boring into his head. Alfred hummed before continuing forward, dragging Ivan through the halls of his huge house. 

Ivan stiffened, unhappy with the hollow silence. The clinking of his chains brought him no comfort as the sound echoed through the hall. Ivan shivered, eyes downcast as he trudged along after Alfred.

“You know you don’t have to be so quiet, nothing you say will change anything,” Alfred sighed, giving another yank, though this one unneeded. 

“I hate you,” Ivan hissed, grimacing as Alfred gave the chains a quick tug, causing him to stumble. Alfred laughed, a joyous sound on any other occasion. Ivan looked up into Alfred’s dark eyes, flinching slightly at his hollow grin.

“You and I both know that’s not true,” He chuckled, turning his attention to the hallway once more. He made sure to pull Ivan along as they rounded a corner, a small laugh escaping him as Ivan tripped over a fold in the rug underneath their feet. Ivan frowned at him, hands clenched into fists. “Cute,” Alfred mused, flashing Ivan an affectionate smile. Ivan looked away, his frown increasing as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. “We’re almost there, kitten!” Alfred sang, speeding up as Ivan staggered behind him.

“Where are we even going,” Ivan wheezed, his limbs drooping and shaky as he struggled to keep up with Alfred. 

“Does it really matter?” Alfred grinned, blue eyes sparkling as he kicked at the carpet. Alfred shrugged, “Actually, I guess it does. To you, at least. We’re going to your new room!” he beamed, trying to keep his expression as innocent as possible, though the dark glint in his eye didn’t go unnoticed.

“Will I get to eat? I’m famished,” Ivan mumbled, struggling to keep his voice steady. The hallway spun around him, the bland paintings mixing together and smearing against the walls in a revolting array of colors. Bile stung the back of his throat as he whimpered, their quick pace being too much for him. Alfred laughed again, the sound hurt his head as he tripped on another fold in the rug.

“Of course, dear. It has been a while since you’ve eaten, yes? I’ll have Francis cook you a nice meal, one fit for kings! Anything for you, love,” Alfred purred, his grin widening at the sight of how weak Ivan was. The image of Alfred began to get fuzzy as Ivan trudged forward, a few tears escaping as his vision swam. He heard another hollow chuckle, causing unbearable pain to shoot through his head. 

“Stop, please,” Ivan whispered, even his own voice causing him more pain than he could handle. Ivan collapsed, tears flowing freely as laughter filled his ears. He winced in pain, pulling his chained hands up to his ears to somehow block out Alfred’s laughter. “Stop,” he whimpered, entire body shaking as he sobbed. Ivan arms wrap around him as he was lifted into the air. He curled in on himself as another low chuckle rumbled through the body holding him. “Why?” Ivan managed, his lungs burning from the effort of speaking. Another laugh.

“Easier to transport. Also, it leaves ya with a bit of memory loss, and it’s always fun to see you all disoriented,” a warbled voice said. Ivan thought it sounded vaguely like Alfred, and frowned. He tried to struggle, but found that any sort of movement was both too hard to manage and caused his head and vision to swim even more, increasing the pain from his splitting headache. Who he assumed to be Alfred snickered, though he wasn’t certain of anything at this point. “No use, babe. It’ll cause more harm than good, it’s best you just get some rest, sweetie,” Alfred said, though sounding a little annoyed, no doubt that Ivan’s unwillingness to give in was the cause.

“Sing,” Ivan muttered as he nuzzled what he presumed to be Alfred’s chest. Alfred sighed, getting the message. He began to sing, just to amuse his kitten. Ivan smiled into Alfred’s chest, finding comfort in the way it rose and fell in even breaths. He sighed as Alfred continued, slightly confused as Alfred began to walk, being careful not to jostle Ivan. Alfred’s voice was surprisingly soft, a relief from all the harsh sounds earlier. His vision darkened as his eyelids drooped. Ivan’s soft smile stayed as he was lulled to sleep by what he thought to be a lullaby. He hummed along to it for a few short seconds before finding it to be too difficult and instead settling for swinging his legs slightly. He closed his eyes, content to be held in Alfred’s arms for once. He thought he heard Alfred sigh wistfully as he slipped out of consciousness, but he would never be sure, and he told himself that he didn’t care.


	2. Is That a Challenge?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bowling and blackmail

Russia let his arm swing forward, watching the ball land onto the ground with a satisfying thud before it rolled down the lane. He straightened himself out as the ball slammed into the pins, knocking them all down, yet another strike. America cursed behind him, hands balled into fists. “You got fucking lucky, Ivan,” he hissed, crossing his arms and throwing himself into his seat. 

Russia smirked at him, “Da, it seems I’ve been very lucky tonight, considering the fact that I’m winning,” he cooed. Alfred scowled as Ivan grabbed his ball from the ball return. Russia walked to the lane with confidence, sending America on last smug grin before swing his arm back and sending his ball flying down the lane, scoring himself another strike. 

“What the fuck! Are you watching this Mattie?” Alfred screeched, throwing his arms into the air and turning to his brother. 

Canada, the aforementioned brother, had not been watching. Matthew glanced up from his phone, “Huh?” he mumbled, looking around confused, as if not knowing where he was. America groaned, burying his face in his hands. 

Russia skipped over, scarf dancing behind him. He gave America a sly grin before sliding into the seat beside him. “It’s your turn, душечка!” he giggled, patting America’s shoulder. Matthew raised an eyebrow before returning his gaze to his phone, texting someone with a giggle. 

“Stop texting your boyfriend and keep watch for foul play!” Alfred shouted, once more throwing his hands into the air. Canada flushed and pulled the hood of his red hoodie up, curling his legs up into his seat before continuing to text his special someone. Alfred grumbled about nothing as he grabbed his ball and walked to the lane, trying his best to appear confident. He clumsily swung his arm, sending the ball flying. His way was much less graceful than Ivan’s, and ended up with his ball in the gutter. Alfred screeched in agony as his ball rolled down, not even close to touching a pin. 

Canada had been recording the whole thing and giggled before sending it. Russia leaned over, “Are you sending that to Cuba?” he whispered as America stomped over to the ball return and yanked his ball away from the others. 

Canada nodded his head, “He said he wanted some blackmail, since no one else knows how bad at bowling he is,” he whispered back. Ivan nodded his head before returning to sit normally. Ivan watched as Alfred this time managed to hit a couple pins.  
  
He turned to Canada with a grin before standing, “Send those to me too, Matvey,” he muttered.

Matthew grinned, “Yes sir.” 

Russia grabbed his ball, turning towards the passing America. “Honestly, Fedya, you’ve never been very good at this,” he said innocently. America stopped in his tracks, turing slowly to face Russia. 

“Is that a challenge?” he hissed, eyes narrowed in rage. 

Ivan blinked owlishly, “I mean, it wasn’t, but okay,” he shrugged.

Alfred gave Ivan a maniacal grin. “Loser has wear this super skimpy lingerie I bought a little while ago,” he cackled. 

Ivan sighed and shook his head, “This is a bad idea, Fedya,” he muttered. Alfred spun around, sprinting towards the counter where the employees were. 

“Imma go make the kid reset it!” he yelled.   
“I don’t think you can do that Alfred!” Canada yelled, turning away from his phone only slightly to deliver his message. Ivan stared at his bowling ball, regretting agreeing with Alfred’s silly challenge. He looked over at Alfred as he yelled at the bowling alley employee, turning away with a sigh and dropping his ball back onto the return.

OwO

Alfred stared in awe as Ivan scored his 6th strike in a row. He felt like he was going to cry, staring down at his ball in his shaky hands. He was doing absolutely terrible. He had been so confident earlier, but Ivan was wiping the floor with him. Russia trotted over, giving America a sympathetic look before sitting down next to Canada. This was the last frame, and even if Alfred got a strike, he wouldn’t win. Alfred shuffled up to the lane, dropping the ball to the ground with a weak swing. He wanted to throw himself down the lane. Ivan sighed and shook his head, watching as Matthew texted the results of their game to Cuba. 

“And I wasn't even trying my hardest,” Ivan muttered, causing Matthew to burst out laughing.  
America grabbed his ball from the ball return and gave it one more weak swing before trudging over and throwing himself into the seat beside Russia. He glared at the TV mounted on a ledge on the ceiling. It showed the results of the game, poorly animated confetti trailing down the screen with Ivan’s name in bold letters plastered across the center. America slumped against Russia, sighing in defeat. Ivan frowned, unhappy with his boyfriend’s pouting. He glanced over at Canada, then his feet, before finally resting his gaze on America’s face. America pushed his glasses up his nose, staring into nothing as he contemplated why on earth he challenged Russia to bowling. Russia shifted in his seat before taking a deep breath.  
“You don’t have to wear the lingerie, I will,” he muttered, turning and burying his face in his scarf. Alfred immediately perked up, sitting up straight and staring it his boyfriend’s violet eyes.

“Really?” he squealed. Ivan nodded his head, face crimson with shame. America giggled hysterically, bouncing up and down in his seat and muttering about how excited he was. Canada chuckled and texted Cuba something, Russia was suspicious that it had something to do with the lingerie. Alfred and Matthew’s phones dinged, both checking what it was. 

“Oh, we gotta meet up with Iggy now, Alfred said, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. They all stood up and began to walk out. Alfred grinned, poking Ivan’s side. “Hope ya don’t mind me takin a few pictures, Vanya,” he cooed, rubbing up against Russia’s side. Russia groaned, burying his face in his hands. He should not have taken pity on America.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was one of the ones I wrote down  
it was pretty simple tbh  
Ivan: honestly fedya, you've never been very good at this  
Alfred: is that a challenge??  
Ivan: I mean it wasn't but okay


	3. Postponed Playtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> spooky child predator Alfred

Tears cascading down porcelain cheeks, mixing with blood and snot. Eyes closing tight to pretend he’s not there, hoping he won’t have to face the monster. Dread and fear mixing with nausea in the boy’s stomach, the sudden urge to vomit overwhelming him. He puked, the horrid scent of his bile filling his nose, as well as the metallic and sweet scent of blood. A terrifying giggle, the crunch of bone. 

“Really, Ivan, I knew you wouldn’t like it all that much, but I wasn’t expecting you to react like this,” the monster purred. Another petrifying giggle followed by an ear-splitting scream. A laugh, though this one louder, bolder. Ivan curled in on himself, closed eyelids doing nothing to stop crystal tears from falling and shattering on the ground. One final scream before the room went quiet, save for the sniffling and whimpering of Ivan. Footsteps echoed, approaching. Ivan flinched as his bloody and scraped chin brushed his sweatshirt, tears falling quicker as the memory of fleeing danced fresh in his mind. The telltale scent of blood growing stronger with each step, the quiet sound of the monster dragging something. Ivan tried to quiet himself, bloodstained hands gripping his arms tight as he pulled his legs closer. He tried to ignore the smell of his vomit, hoping that him puking hadn’t made too much noise. 

Humming echoed through the room as Ivan peeked one eye open. He held his breath as the humming suddenly stopped, leaning forward a bit to press his ear to the closet door. He couldn’t hear anything and a small bit of him began to hope that it was over, that he could leave, that he could escape. He reached a shaky hand up to touch the door, silent tears soaking his cheeks. Suddenly, the door swung open, a limp and bloody body fell into Ivan’s arms.Ivan screamed as he stared into the empty eye sockets of his younger sister, Natalia. Her long, ashen blond hair was greasy and dirty, crimson staining the ends of it, as if she had sat in her own blood and let it soak. Blood splattered her torn clothes, her stomach torn open and organs hanging out. He held her arms, feeling the shattered bones in them, seeing the ones sticking out of her legs. Fresh tears poured from Ivan’s eyes as he screamed his sister’s name. 

He clung to her body, not caring as blood soaked into his sweatshirt, staining it even more than it was already. He sobbed, kissing his sister’s cold cheek, his nose wrinkling as he smelt her. Another laugh, but it was so close. Ivan froze, hands going limp and letting Natalia’s body slide out of his hands. His face, now with blood smeared along the cheek, drained of all color. His wet eyes widened as he looked up slowly, meeting with gleeful blue ones. Ivan screamed again, throwing himself against the back of the closet violently. The loud thud he made when he slammed against the closet made the monster giggle. Ivan winced as he continued to scream. Blue eyes narrowed as Ivan continued his screeching.

“Oh, come on Ivan. I know she was the scary one, right? She was the one always bothering you with marriage proposals, yeah? It’s good that’s she’s gone. She won’t get in my way anymore,” he said, flashing Ivan his million dollar smile. Ivan’s screaming and blubbering didn’t cease, causing his brows to furrow. “If you don’t cut that out, I’ll have to do something I really don’t want to. You hear me, love?” he hissed, watching as Ivan pulled his arms and legs back in. 

Ivan struggled to contain his need to scream, instead going for mumbling “Monster,” over and over. A wicked laugh echoed through the room, vivid blue eyes boring into Ivan as the boy shook. 

“I’m flattered, sweetheart, but I’m no monster. You know me, I’m Alfred! Alfred F. Jones! Y’know, your tutor? Your hero? The love of your life?” Alfred laughed again, “Well, I might’ve added the last one, but it’ll be true soon enough, right sugar?” Ivan shook his head, eyes wide in terror. Alfred sighed, shaking his head as he grabbed one of Natalia’s decimated legs. He lifted her up and threw her limp body behind him, sickly sweet smile forming on his face at the thud of her body hitting the ground. Ivan’s whole body jerked at the sound, eyes puffy and nose running.

“M-monster,” Ivan muttered, head still shaking in disbelief. His body shook as he held himself, quickly burying his head in his arms were he continued to mutter ‘monster’ over and over. Alfred grumbled, standing up and putting his bloodied hands on his hips.

“Oh, I hope I didn’t break him. I quite liked him,” Alfred mused, turning away to face the room’s open door. Light poured into the room from the hallway where the blood trail Alfred made was drying. Alfred winced, thinking of how pissed his brother would be if he let it dry. He needed to clean it up, soon hopefully. He glanced back at Ivan, sighing as he crouched back down in front of him. He grinned at Ivan, “We’ll play later buddy, I have some things to take care of. But don’t worry, we can have some fun soon!” he cooed before standing again. He marched over to the door, turning to wave at Ivan before he left, slamming the door shut behind him and engulfing the room in darkness. Ivan whimpered, hugging himself tighter and shivering. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so so so so so so--” Ivan choked on his words, stopping as a sob bubbled up from inside him. He buried his face in his arms, crying as memories of his sister flooded his mind. He hoped he wouldn’t have to play too soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi :)


	4. Are You Okay?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> help

Alfred groaned, hands running through his sunny blond hair over and over, fingers combing through knots and tangles. He rocked in his corner, knees pulled up to his chest as his foot taps the ground in random patterns. He wanted to sleep, but he couldn’t. He felt like he’d been awake for forever, like he’d never closed his eyes. He knew it wasn’t true. He’d spent some much time with his eyes closed, every small blink taking away his vision no longer than a second. But he hated closing his eyes. It stopped him from seeing the one he loved, but even now if he never had to blink or sleep he still wouldn’t be able to see his Ivan. He continued his rocking, his speed increasing as his movements became jerky and robotic. He wanted to cry, wanted to feel something, but he couldn’t even stay awake. His eyelids slid shut, no matter how hard he fought them, he couldn't stop it. He wanted to stay awake. He wanted to see. To wait. He wanted Ivan.

00o00o00

He didn’t know where he was anymore. He didn’t know why or how, just that he was. It was soft all around him, a bed maybe. He sat up. He didn’t remember blankets or pillows, just white. He didn’t remember laying down. But that was fine. It was warm now, and that was all that mattered. He felt around for his glasses, finding them tucked underneath a scorched pillow. Why was it burnt? He didn’t know. All he knew was that his throat hurt and that he was still so tired. Alfred shoved his glasses onto his face, pausing to examine the rest of his bedding. It was all burnt, some of it crumpling into nothing but ashes at his touch. 

He was hot ,now. Unbelievably hot. So hot, he couldn’t handle it. He figured it was the blankets, so he leapt out of his bed. The bed. A bed. It wasn’t his bed. This bed had nothing but a big puffy blanket and two pillows, all scorched by some fire that, for some reason, didn’t hurt Alfred. Alfred’s bed wasn’t burnt. His bed had Captain America pillows and a space blanket. There were plushies from Ivan, and most importantly, Ivan. But Ivan wasn’t here. He didn’t know where Ivan was, and it made his heart hurt. He felt hollow as he collapsed in a heap on the ground, panting. It was still too hot. His skin hurt, reminding him of the pain in his throat. Alfred whimpered as he lay on the ground, flinching as a bright light flicked on above him. 

He rolled over onto his back, throwing his arms and legs as far out and away from his as possible. He let out a groan, the sound raspy and broken. It felt like he had been yelling or screaming for too long, but he didn’t know what about. His head hurt now too, and he closed his eyes. He immediately changed his mind and let his eyelids fly back open. It was too dark with his eyes closed. He hated the dark. Alfred decided it best to examine his surroundings as best he could from his position. He didn’t want to move, he was still too hot.

Around him was white, again. The only thing he remembered. A window on the far wall exposed a small room with a brown door. A few chairs were scattered about, and a small mic rested on a white table closest to the window. He looked away, finding the room too bright for him. It was bright in his room, but not as much. The light was softer in here, kinder to his tired eyes. Alfred looked around again, hoping to find something new in his supposed room. Everything stayed white, except for a small black speaker nestled in a high corner. He frowned, disappointed with his surrounding. He figured whoever put him here would at least give him a toilet. Maybe a sink too. Alfred liked to have his hands clean.

The sound of a door opening, and Alfred was up. He stood in the middle of his room, eyes boring into the now slightly ajar brown door in the window room. Pale fingers wrapped around the edge of the door as it was pushed open more. Alfred felt hot again, though hotter than before, like he could burst into flames at any second. The door was open halfway now, but Alfred couldn’t make anything else out through his fogged up glasses. Fear overrode his system and he erupted into flames. Huh. He didn’t know he could do that.

It hurt. Oh god, it hurt. So much. He screamed, adding to the pain because of his raw throat. He could just make out a quiet yet familiar “eep!” from the window room. His flames died down, some kind of reflex hidden within him telling him to stop. His skin hurt, burned, more like it. His throat and eyes hurt, same as his head. Everything hurt. He wanted to sleep. So badly. But closing his eyes was bad, he could have missed the small glimpse of Ivan that he could make out through his glasses. They were smudged now, but Alfred had no idea how. He had no memory of throwing them to the ground, but they were there now.

Alfred fell to the ground beside his glasses in an attempt to pick them up. He closer now, so there was that. He reached a shaky arm out for his glasses, outstretched fingers straining to brush over the metal rims he knew were there. He thought he was closer, but apparently not. That didn’t matter, though. He just needed his glasses. He needed to know if he had been hallucinating or if Ivan was actually here. Well, as close to here as he could be. The window room. 

He grabbed his glasses, wincing at the searing pain from the burning hot metal. Maybe he shouldn’t have burst into flames. Everything would have been so much easier if he hadn’t. He pulled his glasses close, deciding that maybe plastic frames would have been better than metal ones. He changed his mind as he shoved his glasses onto his face once again, figuring that hot glasses were better than melted glasses.

“Fedya!” Ivan cried, leaning over the table in front of the window as much as he could. “Are you okay?!”

Alfred laughed, the sound hollow, shaky and broken, yet somehow still so lively and full of joy. His throat burned, but he didn’t care. He grinned, dragging himself to his feet before he stumbled over to the window. Ivan had crawled onto the table at this point, just so he could be as close to Alfred as possible. Alfred watched as Ivan pressed his pale hand to the glass, resting his forehead against the window as well. Alfred’s smile widened as he rested his hand in the same place.

“No,” Alfred sighed, his voice cracking in the middle of such a simple word. God, it had been a while since he had talked, hadn’t it? He lined his head up with Ivan’s and pressed a kiss to the glass. Ivan smiled as well, returning the gesture.

“Me either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is nothing


	5. Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> beanie boy has to talk to his crush because of annoying friend

Ivan had a secret. It really wasn’t too hard to figure out. He was never very good at keeping secrets, but no one ever really paid too much attention to Ivan, so it wasn’t like anyone was going to find out. But that didn’t stop Ivan from worrying and panicking, always second guessing himself and stumbling over his words no matter the situation. 

Ivan had a crush. A crush on one of the most popular boys in school. It made him feel shallow and pathetic, but he couldn’t help it. Everything about his crush was perfect. Flawless. Effortless and beautiful.

Ivan would doodle him in his notebook. From memory, of course. His crush was two grades above him. He would tear out the pages, stuffing them into his folder to add to the pile at home, hidden in a drawer that he hoped no one would search.

He’d skim through any of his social media accounts, feel his cheeks heat up at any picture posted. He’d watch him walk past in the hallway. Grin and flush as he shuffled down the hallway on wobbly legs while Yao chuckled, assuming the reason for Ivan’s embarrassment incorrectly. 

Ivan himself was surprised that no one had found out yet. He guessed he was lucky, and brushed it off, saving such thoughts for later. He had more important things to focus on. Like the love of his life, and how every girl in the school was drooling over him. It made his blood boil to see those girls call out to his love, whistle as he walked past. His crush, for some reason, always embraced it. Grinned and winked. Flipped his hair and blew kisses. It confused Ivan, but his adoration never once faltered. 

Yao had a sneaking suspicion that Ivan had a crush, but he could figure out who. Ivan was rather disappointed, expecting more from his best friend, but figured it best that his crush was kept a secret. Ivan had too many things on his plate to be worrying about Yao too much, and one of those things was a new and excitable friend, Alfred. 

Alfred was a good friend to have, as not a single person was unaware of who Alfred was. Alfred was sunny and bright, and that brought attention. Alfred knew people. He could get you thingsHe could get you connections. Help you meet people. Whether you wanted it or not.

Alfred, among other things, was a handful. Stressful to handle. It was like being a babysitter for a 14 year old boy who didn’t need a babysitter but insisted on having one because he thought it’d be fun. His past ‘babysitter’ was Arthur, who recently went on vacation. Alfred picked his new best friend, or babysitter, within the 5 seconds after he found out about his missing Arthur. 

Ivan had been the unlucky fool right next to Alfred, and was of course picked, despite having never held a full conversation with him before. Alfred was energetic and happy. A beam of light in this dark dark world, as many put it. But Ivan had to disagree. He would much rather be continuing his desperate attempts at gaining his crush’s attention and hanging out with Yao, but instead he had Alfred nagging him 24/7. 

Alfred forced you into things. Brought you places you didn’t want to go. Chatted about things you didn’t ask about. Asked you if you understood what he was talking about. Made you watch shows, movies, and videos. Made you listen to music you didn’t like. Made you try food you didn’t want to. He introduced you to people that made you heart beat faster than you thought it could. Insisted that you became well acquainted with the man of your dreams and his best friends. Encouraged you to spend time with the one person who made your face redder than a tomato by just being in the same room as them. 

Of course he didn't know the stress this put on Ivan’s heart. He was just trying to do his best. Live his best life. Bring you along with him on this great adventure of middle school. 

Ivan had tried for a very long time to deny Alfred’s requests that he hang out with the BTT, the most most well known trio in the school, as well as the group containing Ivan’s crush. Alfred was adamant that Ivan have more than 4 friends, and suggested he befriend popular people. Of course Ivan wanted more friends. Of course he wanted to befriend popular people. Just not the BTT. He couldn’t handle it. He had his reasons, but of course he couldn’t share those with Alfred. Who knows what he would tell people. He never could keep his mouth shut. 

Eventually, Alfred grew tired of Ivan denying him. He made the decision for Ivan, an unwelcome trait of his. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done this before. But Ivan wasn’t ready for it this time. Wasn’t ready to stare his crush in the eyes and say hello. Wasn’t prepared to act normal. Wasn’t ready to pretend he wasn’t wishing that his love would just pin him down and kiss him forever. 

Alfred set a time. A place. 

Ivan would meet the BTT.

00o00o00

The sun was setting. Why was the sun setting already? Either Alfred had set the time too late or Autumn had come to take away his sunshine again. Ivan groaned and shivered. It was Autumn. Oh well. Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be mad at Alfred. He had every right to be mad at Alfred. Ivan wanted nothing more than to spin to face Alfred before punching him in the face. Alfred was such a pain.

Ivan didn’t want to do this. But it was too late for that, wasn’t it? He shivered again. He wished he’d worn warmer clothes, but he had been kind of rushed. Alfred had shown up at his house and ushered him out. He’d been yelling about how Ivan was going to love the BTT, as they were the best friends you could ask for. Ivan doubted that, as he knew Gilbert, a member of the BTT, had quite the history. Not a good history, mind you. A rather bad history, to be honest. Ivan tugged on his scarf, sighing and watching his breath float out in the air in front of him. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he, for a moment, forgot about how horribly stressful and terrible this day had been and just admired the world around him, taking in the leaves of their many different warm colors and breathing in the crisp air.

“We’re here.” Alfred’s words startled Ivan out of his daze. He frowned at Alfred, suppressing the urge to hit him as Alfred grinned back. Alfred turned, walking through a gate in tall wooden fences. Ivan didn’t remember seeing that before but ignored that thought as he trudged after Alfred. 

They entered a park, the leaves and grass dead yet somehow so gorgeous bathed in the setting sun’s light. A playground with still swaying swings and scratched plastic tube slides rested in front of them, the paved path curving to avoid it. Alfred ran ahead to the swings, launching himself at one as his loud laughter echoed in the empty park. Ivan walked up calmly behind him, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie.

Alfred beamed, straightening himself out and walking over to Ivan. He grabbed Ivan’s scarf and tied it into a bow. Ivan gave no objections, knowing they wouldn't stop Alfred. Alfred was bouncing slightly in excitement, his joy knowing no bounds as Ivan gave him a small smile. Alfred stepped back, examining Ivan’s appearance before he nodded his approval.

  
He pointed down the path, further into the park. “They should be that way. There’s a fountain that’ll be there, so that’s how you’ll know. You could also probably figure it because of the three dudes there who are the BTT,” said Alfred, eyes sparkling as Ivan nodded and began his walk. 

Of course Alfred would leave him alone. Classic Alfred trying to make everything harder for him. Ivan followed the path, accepting his fate as quietly as possible. He walked. And walked. And walked a little more. He knew it couldn’t be that long until he arrived. And of course he was right.

He saw the fountain, and along with it the infamous Bad Touch Trio. There was Antonio, sitting and throwing crumbs to the birds. There was Gilbert, sleeves rolled up as he fished for coins in the fountain, a steadily growing pile beside him. And there was Francis. He’d noticed him now. 

Francis, the most perfect man on earth, had seen him. Was walking towards him. Smiling. Gilbert and Antonio noticed now too. He could hear Gilbert laughing, but it was growing fainter by the second. Ivan hoped he wasn’t too flushed.

Francis.

Perfect smile with unbelievably white teeth that shone and brightened his darkest days. Sky blue eyes with such depth and emotion that Ivan could not even begin to describe in words. Gorgeous blond hair dancing about his shoulders in the wind, every stray hair adding to his elegance. That light stubble on his chin emphasizing his handsomeness, his effortless perfection. His hand outstretched. Ivan took it, almost melting at the feel of Francis’s warm skin sliding against his own, his fingertips ever so slightly calloused. He felt hot. Like he would explode. Like he could melt. Like time had stopped. Francis chuckled, releasing Ivan’s hand. Ivan fought back a whimper at the loss of contact, and decided instead to focus on the melodious sound if Francis’s laughter. The most beautiful thing he had ever heard. He wanted to hear it every second of every day, but he knew it impossible. 

Francis’s gaze softened, the light reflecting off his hair making him seem like an angel. Ivan could see his own reflection in Francis’s eyes, his heart fluttering at the thought that Francis enjoyed the sight of him bathed in the orange light of the setting sun. Francis’s smile was warm and kind, his lips parted as he spoke.

“Bonjour.”

Oh, Francis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I was dead


	6. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This could be considered as a part 2 for Postponed Playtime, if you want  
it can be read but itself too, if you want  
I don't really care  
had an idea in the shower and wrote it  
spooky child predator Alfred but this time he's a bit spookier, I guess

Ivan tugged on the bottom of his new shorts, a cold sweat coating his skin as Alfred watched him. Alfred, after leaving him alone in a locked room for two days, had decided it best to get Ivan some new, not bloodstained clothes. Ivan would’ve been more enthusiastic if the situation were different, but now he only dreaded wearing these new clothes. The shirt was too tight, it clung to his body like plastic wrap. He appreciated the cat pattern on it, as well as the long sleeves, but that was pretty much it. And the shorts. The shorts.

They were just so unnecessary. They were too short, riding up when he sat down, sliding down when he stood up or walked. He was constantly fixing them, constantly trying to get them to stay, trying to find the best way for them to rest as to cover as much of his legs as possible. At least he got to keep his scarf. His stomach growled, and Alfred giggled. Ivan narrowed his eyes at Alfred.

“Hungry, are we?” Alfred cooed, dropping Ivan’s dirty clothes onto the armrest of a nearby chair. Ivan nodded silently, glaring. Alfred laughed again. “Well, maybe after we play a game, if you cooperate, you could have a snack. Maybe even a meal.”

Ivan’s eyes snapped to Alfred’s, his expression eager at the mention of food. “Really?” Ivan whispered, his voice hoarse from screaming for hours on end in the locked room. Alfred smiled fondly, nodding. Ivan licked his lips at the thought of food, his stomach growling again. Ivan could swear he saw Alfred shiver when he licked his lips, and he didn’t miss the way Alfred’s eyes clouded with lust before he snapped back to attention, his hands now fisted at his hips.

“Alright then, if you really wanna get to playing sweetheart, we’ll play,” Alfred grinned. “Oh, but what will he play?” he sighed playfully, eyes twinkling. Ivan fought back the urge to roll his eyes, gag, maybe even spit at Alfred. He had to cooperate if he wanted to eat. He shifted again, his shorts shifting higher up. Alfred ate it up, his grin twisting into something foul as Ivan struggled to cover his legs. “Hide and seek,” said Alfred. “We’ll play hide and seek.”

Ivan wanted to protest. It wasn’t fair, he didn’t know this house, good hiding places, anything at all. All he knew was his former prison, the locked room. The room bloody and putrid, Ivan would rather die than hide in there. 

He wanted to protest, but he couldn’t. He had to cooperate. To be compliant, complaisant. Any word of the like, he had to obey. So he stayed silent, eyes downcast. He heard a quiet chuckle above him, a hand petting his hair. 

“Good boy,” Alfred snickered. “I’ll explain the rules of our little game, alright?” Ivan’s response wasn’t needed, but he nodded anyway. “You go hide while I count to thirty. Once I hit thirty, I’m coming for you, whether you’re ready or not,” he sang. “If I find you, I get to have some fun, of any kind I want, capiche?” Ivan nodded again. “If I don’t find you, highly unlikely, you get to explore the house, maybe do better next time we play, sound good?” asked Alfred. Ivan nodded, having no better response. Alfred grinned. “Let’s play.”

00oo00oo00

Ivan scurried down hallway after hallway, panic rushing through his veins. He could still hear Alfred counting loudly, though it grew fainter by the second. This house was bigger than he thought it was, but he was determined to hide in the best place possible. Ivan doubted he would find a good place, as Alfred’s counting wasn’t slow. 

Ivan rounded a corner, finding himself in a kitchen. Ivan, hearing how little time he had left, sprinted into the room in search of a hiding place. He spotted a cabinet beneath the sink, and threw it open, climbing in. Ivan regretted his decision. It was too cramped, slightly damp, and hard to breathe. Ivan pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around himself as he shivered.

“Ready or not, here I come!” Alfred called, his voice a faint echo. Ivan held his breath as he felt what must have been a bug scuttle past. The distant sound of cabinets and closets being thrown open and slammed shut filled the silence between Ivan’s shallow breaths. He clutched himself as the sounds grew closer, the speed of Alfred’s search increasing. Ivan wanted to cry, his eyes burned, a wall of tears pushing behind his eyes, struggling to break the dam of Ivan’s will. Ivan feared crying would make noise, and so he kept quiet, his eyes screwed shut.

Ivan could now hear Alfred stomping down hallways, thumping into rooms Ivan passed and throwing things about, by the sound of it. Alfred didn’t seem to be taking this seriously, a laugh heard from a nearby room. Ivan shifted, letting his feet press against the door of his hiding spot. Alfred thudded into another room, more laughter echoing as Alfred continued his rampage. Ivan’s knuckles whitened as he gripped his arms tighter and tighter.

Alfred left the room he was in previously, stumbling into the kitchen. Ivan’s whole body locked up, his eyes going wide as Alfred threw himself about in search of Ivan. Ivan didn’t dare move as the noises got quieter, Alfred calming in his movements for some reason. Tears brimmed, but Ivan kept them down. It all felt like a battle he couldn’t win. It was a battle he couldn’t win. It was like being thrown into an arena without any weapons or training, and your opponent was the strongest person in the entire city, their weapon the heaviest and bloodiest, not a single person left breathing after a fight with them.

Ivan kept his eyes shut, his entire body quivering as Alfred’s footsteps neared. He didn’t think Alfred would find him this quickly. He didn’t know Alfred was that fast. He supposed it was good knowledge to have in the long run, good information to store away, add that factor to his escape plans, but this wasn’t the way he wanted to find out Alfred’s speed. He wanted to find out how fast he was in a situation with no consequences, in a situation in which Alfred wouldn’t hurt him. But it was too late for that, wasn’t it?

The cabinet was thrown open. Ivan screeched as Alfred grabbed his ankles and yanked him out of his hiding place. He pried his eyes open, finding himself with one leg on Alfred’s shoulder and the other resting by Alfred’s side. Ivan stiffened as Alfred grinned at him, hands gripping Ivan’s thighs. Ivan’s eyes burned as tears dripped down his cheeks. 

Alfred laughed. “Oh, calm down. It’s not that big of a deal, it’s just hide and seek.” Ivan paused in his sniffling, bringing a hand up to wipe his wet face, eyes hopeful. Alfred made no indication of moving. “I will be taking my prize now, though,” he chuckled. Ivan’s eyes went wide, his body freezing again as Alfred squeezed his thighs tighter. 

“What, what are you going to, to do?” Ivan stuttered out, wincing as Alfred’s blunt nails dug into his pale skin. Ivan was certain that if Alfred didn’t loosen his grip soon, he would draw blood. Alfred smirked, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against Ivan’s.

“I’m gonna have fun, that’s what,” Alfred said, leaning to the side and licking Ivan’s cheek. Ivan wrinkled his nose, fresh tears dribbling down his face. The urge to hit Alfred, spit in his face, break his stupid glasses, anything, became stronger than Ivan ever thought it could. But, beneath all the spite and anger, Ivan was scared. Ivan was scared of Alfred and what he might do, scared of how he might do it.

Alfred laughed again as Ivan’s expression contorted into one of disgust. He sighed, squishing Ivan’s legs over and over, playing with his thighs. Ivan flushed, embarrassment and hatred burning in his veins. Ivan hated it. Hated the feeling of Alfred caressing his skin in such a loving and sensual way. Like he cared. Like he loved Ivan. But, the more time Ivan spent with Alfred, the more apparent it became that Alfred did love him, and that was what scared him most.

Alfred let his head drop to Ivan’s shoulder, inching head closer to Ivan’s now exposed neck, his scarf dropping and hanging loosely off his shoulders. One hand slithered lower, gripping his ass and lifting him up higher. Tears continued to fall as Alfred rested Ivan in his lap, legs splayed out on either side of Alfred. Alfred’s hand slithered back to his thigh before trailing up and resting on his stomach. Alfred bit into the scarf, pulling it away more before burying his face in Ivan’s neck. He lapped at Ivan’s neck, a whimper escaping Ivan’s lips.

Ivan shifted slightly, doing the best he could as Alfred held him in place. He hated the feeling of Alfred’s hot breath on his neck. Hated the feeling of Alfred touching his butt. Hated Alfred. Hated how he could feel how hard Alfred was in their new position. He cried harder, doing his best to keep quiet. Alfred pulled his head back, staring into Ivan’s watery eyes.

Alfred ground against Ivan, his grin lazy and twisted, his eyes dark and clouded with lust. The smallest bit of drool slipped from Alfred’s mouth, trailing down his chin. Alfred leaned in, placing a sloppy kiss on Ivan’s lips. Ivan wanted to scream, throw punches, kick Alfred. But he didn’t. He stayed still, motionless as Alfred shoved his tongue into Ivan’s mouth. 

Alfred pulled away, his hand moving from Ivan’s stomach to rest on Ivan’s crotch, fingers fiddling with the button on his shorts. One unbuttoned. Two. Zipper unzipped. Shorts pulled down. A quiet sob slipped from Ivan’s lips, and Alfred beamed.

“Oh, come on sugarplum,” Alfred purred, “we’ve barely even started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might go to a psychiatrist  
I guess I was too sad in front of my mom and she was like bruh  
anyways  
hope this wasn't too weird for anyone  
:)


	7. Wasted Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this probably deserves an explanation, but I don't have one  
I thought it was a little interesting though  
sooooooo  
yeehaw :)

Tired. He was tired. But it didn’t matter, because he was nothing. Just an abstract idea in a puddle, cold. He’d been cold before, sure, but this was new. Something colder than before. Something numb and hollow. Different. He shivered and shook, ripples spreading out around in his puddle. He felt them. They kept going farther, drifting away and away. The puddle was bigger than he remembered. It didn’t seem to end. 

A splash. Another. Steps, perhaps. Or maybe a drip. A leak. Maybe both. A creature forming. Or maybe it was nothing at all. 

“Is this really where you’ve been,” a voice hissed. It was familiar, but not. Someone he once knew. The voice was cold, but he felt it must’ve been warm once upon a time. A welcoming sound, one that would brighten his mood instantly. His heart fluttered, beating quick as splashes grew close. He felt the need to respond.

“Is it?” he whispered. It was strange. He hadn’t talked in a while, it seemed. His mouth was dry. His lips chapped. He didn’t notice before, but his throat was burning. His eyes now, too, tears threatening. He never thought he could be so emotional. 

A chuckle, a few more splashes. “I guess it is,” they sighed. Perhaps not a they. A he, it sounded like. His laugh was wonderful, to say the least. It sent shivers of delight down his spine. He wanted to know who this person was.

“Who are you?” he croaked. His voice was higher pitched than he remembered it being. An accent too.

“You really don’t remember, do you? I guess it makes sense, but I’m still upset. I’m Alfred,” Alfred said. A loud splash echoed as Alfred kicked at the water. It splashed onto his face, just as cold as the rest of the water. He flinched, hands clenching at his sides. “You’ve always been so pale,” Alfred mumbled. Another step, by the sound of it. “I want to see you, dear. Let me see your eyes, they’ve always been so pretty. I hope they haven’t changed.”

“Who am I?” he asked, voice cracking. His voice was still so hoarse, despite the three whole sentences he’d spoken. It frustrated him. He thought he should speak with ease now. He was growing tired of the shakiness and the uneven tone, but deep down somewhere in his shattered mind there was logic that knew he was being unreasonable.  
  
“Let me see you, love. Show me your eyes, heart. Smile at me again, darling. Please, Ivan,” Alfred muttered, voice shaking with emotion. It made him feel better, but still so hollow.

It hurt.

His heart hurt. He was Ivan, yes? Learning his name again was supposed to make him remember who he was, what he did. It was supposed to feel good, a rush of emotion that had him leaping up from the water and throwing himself into Alfred’s arms. But he was still hollow. Still numb and cold. And yet, at the same time he wanted to cry. Or maybe laugh. It was confusing, and all he knew was that he hurt. His mind, his heart. And now, his eyes.

Ivan cracked open his eyes. It was so much brighter than he thought it would be. It hurt much more than he expected. He could barely feel his arms, but he moved them. A struggle at first, but he made do, pushing himself up as his eyelids fluttered open and shut again as his eyes struggled to adjust to the light. Soon he was sitting, hands cradling his face as his eyes watered. He opened his eyes fully and wiped his face, doing little to remove any wet. Ivan let his hands drop and looked around.

It was all white. As far as the eye could see, white. The water gray, each ripple lined with black. It seemed to shine, even though it wasn’t that bright. Ivan frowned, figuring that it was due to the lack of use that his eyes were so sensitive. A glance down at his own body revealed his nakedness, which Ivan just couldn’t find the energy to care about. He didn’t mind how blank and empty it was, but he couldn’t find Alfred. He shifted, one hand down in the water to hold his place as he swung a leg over top the other and dragged his other arm over. He felt like his pose must paint the picture that he was quite feminine, examining his own body again he found that it wouldn’t be a stretch. He saw behind him now, and there was, presumably, Alfred.

Alfred was a handsome man, tan skin and sunny blond hair. Excitement swirling with a deep sadness and longing in his bright blue eyes, metal rimmed glasses perched on his nose. A lopsided grin with teeth whiter than printer paper. A black shirt with rolled up sleeves clung to his body, muscles rippling beneath the fabric. Dark gray pants hung loosely around his legs, simple black lace up sneakers, double knotted, on his feet. A pale, cream colored scarf was clutched in his hand, his other hand clenched tightly, blood running down his white knuckles.

“Alfred?” Ivan mumbled, his arm shaking as he struggled to keep himself upright. Alfred’s grin widened as he nodded. He walked forward, soon breaking into a sprint before falling to his knees before Ivan. Ivan stayed still, expression blank as Alfred knelt in front of him. Alfred wrapped the scarf around Ivan’s neck. It stung, as if there was a cut tracing his neck and the fabric rubbing against it just now reminded him of it. He guessed that was the case, it wouldn’t be the first time he forgot something so important.

“Oh Ivan, oh Vanya,” Alfred murmured, a hand brushing Ivan’s cheek, blue eyes staring into Ivan’s. Ivan stared back, his mind blank except for a faint confusion. He barely processed anything, knowing nothing in this moment except a hollow feeling and uncertainty. Alfred’s gaze was loving and fond, an endless wonder and admiration making his eyes sparkle, a longing smile curved his lips. One arm wrapped around Ivan’s middle, his other hand, the one without blood, cupping Ivan’s cheek.

“Vanya?” Ivan asked, subconsciously pressing his cheek into Alfred’s warm hand.

Alfred nodded, “Your nickname.” Ivan nodded in agreement, though he didn’t know he had a nickname. He felt calmer somehow with Alfred’s arm around his body, his eyelids fluttering closed as his breathing slowed. His heart beat faster. His cheeks warmed. He felt safe, loved. It was nice. That was the best way Ivan could describe it now. His mind didn’t function the way it should. Its reactions slow, his thoughts and feelings delayed. Ivan hoped Alfred realized this and wouldn’t try to feed him too much information at once. 

All thoughts were silenced as warm lips pressed against his own. There was something wet on those lips, something thicker than saliva, a distinct metallic scent accompanying it. Ivan melted, the arm he was using to support himself gave out, and he collapsed into Alfred’s arms. Alfred stared down at him, grinning. Red stained his lips. Blood, of course. Must’ve been from his hand, perhaps a cut was there. Ivan couldn’t help himself, and licked his lips. Blood tasted good, he decided. Sweet and metallic, similar to its scent. It was nice. It was good. He liked it.

Ivan didn’t get to dwell on his thoughts of how much he enjoyed the blood, because seconds later he felt dizzy. He had been still the whole time, and was rather confused by this outcome. His vision swam, the image of Alfred smiling down on him twisting and twirling until nothing was certainly what it had been, and nothing was separate. 

“Alfred,” Ivan said weakly, one shaky hand reaching up for him. Alfred laughed, grabbing Ivan’s hand and pressing it to his cheek.

“Call me Fedya, just like you used to, please,” Alfred whispered back. 

Ivan’s eyes watered as he whimpered, “Fedya.” And then it all went black.

00oo00oo00

Ivan woke up. He felt different, in so many ways. The hollow feeling was still there, but softer, so to speak. Before it had drowned out almost all other emotions, but now it was just a faint ache in his bones. A quiet ringing in the back of his mind. Mostly he felt cold, again. He shivered and sat up, naked except for the scarf Alfred gifted him. 

And there was Alfred. Alfred was kneeling beside him, expression triumphant and satisfied. His blue eyes glittered as Ivan cocked his head to the side.

“I’ve missed you, Vanya dear,” Alfred sighed, reaching a hand up to Ivan’s face. He stroked Ivan’s cheek for a moment before he reached down and pulled up Ivan’s lips. He ran his thumb over Ivan’s now sharp teeth, a quiet hum of approval rumbling in his chest. He then moved up again, rubbing right beneath Ivan’s eye. Ivan’s eyelashes fluttered, his face for once not blank. “I’m glad he let you keep those pretty eyes of yours,” Alfred purred, a dreamy look in his eyes. Ivan stayed silent, searching his mind for memories to prove that his teeth were always sharp. He came to the conclusion that they weren’t.

Alfred grabbed a lock of hair and twirled it between his fingers, leaning closer to Ivan as he did so. Ivan moved a hand up, freezing in terror once he saw his hand. 

It was black now, the nails a blunt as ever. But, if he moved his hand just right and thought about it hard enough, they were sharp. He pulled away, for fear of hurting Alfred. Alfred snickered, grabbing Ivan’s retreating hand and pressing it to his cheek. Ivan had a faint memory of this happening earlier. He knew it wasn’t that long ago, but his mind was fuzzy and broken. Time was strange. Nothing was in order. Ivan just decided to focus on his arm.

Most of his arm was black now, changing back to his pale skin halfway past his forearm. The black ended in an even, rounded pattern, like the petals of a flower. A withering one, specks of black missing here and there in the pattern. Ivan glanced to his other to confirm that it was the same there. 

Ivan tired moving all his body to see if anything else was different. As it turns out, there was more. Wings. Black, feathered wings spread themselves out behind him, shaking off several loose feathers. 

“Amazing,” Alfred breathed, almost as dazzled as Ivan was alarmed. “And those horns too, sweetheart. Oh, the horns.” 

Ivan didn’t know there were horns. A hand shot up, feeling about for horns. Sure enough, there they were. They curved, a wonderfully elegant spiral, surely the reason for Alfred’s awe. Ivan lowered his hand, shaking. He stared down at himself. His pale skin, his chubby thighs, his rounded chest, his blackened arms. His head hurt again. A pang of something striking in his heart.

“What am I?” Ivan whispered, voice quaking. Tears threatened as Alfred held Ivan’s hands in his own, before pressing a kiss to Ivan’s lips.

“You’re a demon now, sugar. You died. You left me. But you’re back now. A demon now. But my demon. You’re mine. Just liked you always were. But it’s forever this time. Forever,” Alfred replied, tone carefree as he pressed more kisses to Ivan’s cheeks.

“A demon?” Ivan choked out, tears now falling down his pale cheeks like raindrops down a window. Alfred clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

“MY demon,” he corrected. “And it’ll stay that way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really have no idea  
I just wanted to write this and then I stayed up too late because I didn't want to go to sleep and forget the idea  
yeehaw?


	8. Road Trip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> weehoo  
Things get a lil spicy in here UwU  
so this is kinda like a college AU  
just thought I should clarify that since I had a hard time figuring out how to imply college in this  
anywho  
yeehaw :)

“Can you get your long ass legs away from me,” Alfred hissed, shoving at Ivan’s legs. Ivan scowled at him, struggling to pull his legs closer as he swatted at Alfred’s hands.

“Oh, I would love to, but sadly, I cannot. As you can see, Arthur’s chair is just a bit too far back, and I have no room whatsoever,” Ivan shot back, recoiling as Alfred delivered a quick punch to his shin. 

Alfred sat farther back, squishing poor Matthew, who had been nestled quietly by the car window, watching everything that passed by the glass. “Iggy!” Alfred wailed, “Move your heckin seat! I swear to god, I’m going to shoot someone if his fuckin pale ass legs rub up against me again!” Ivan flushed and scowled at Alfred. 

“My seat is as far forward as it can go, Alfred. You’re just going to have to deal with it,” Arthur replied, staring at the map in his hands. Francis sighed from the driver’s seat, rubbing his face with one hand before he returned his full attention to driving. 

Alfred groaned, “This is the worst! This damn car is too small, and Ivan and his stupid legs are too big! I hate this, bad idea, bad idea! Who’s idea was this?! I’ll kill them.”

“It was yours,” Ivan snapped, glaring. 

“What?!” Alfred cried, “I don’t remember that!”

“It’s true,” Matthew piped up, startling Alfred. Matthew continued, “Ivan said he was going to see his sisters, up where Gil lives, ever since he graduated, and you thought it’d be cool to go with because you wanted to see him. Gilbert, I mean.”

Alfred sat in silence for a moment, his arms in position to shove Ivan, but frozen in place. Quiet mumblings from Arthur and Francis arguing about directions drifted to the back seat as they stared at each other. Ivan shifted his legs again, and Matthew flushed and stared down at his own legs. Alfred’s cheeks puffed up, and his fists clenched tighter, turning his knuckles white. 

“This is not my fault,” Alfred grumbled, arms now crossed. 

“Oh? And what makes you think that? Matvey just told you about how you suggested it, which would make your fault,” Ivan asked, crossing his arms as well.

Alfred harrumphed, “Well, it’s your fault for agreeing.” 

“Is that so?” Ivan mused, shifting his legs for the thousandth time, accidentally kicking Alfred.

“Don’t touch me!” Alfred screamed, swinging at Ivan. Ivan screeched as Alfred hit him, kicking his legs out and almost hitting Matthew. Ivan grabbed a fistful of Alfred’s hair and began yanking on it, the other hand clawing at every inch of Alfred he could reach. Ivan kept kicking his legs, Alfred still punching and kicking too. Matthew curled in on himself as much as he could, doing his best to melt into the car door beside him. Alfred and Ivan let out shouts and cries of pain and anger as the continued their fight.

“Stop fighting!” Arthur shouted. They didn’t stop fighting.

Suddenly, the car skidded to a stop, both Francis and Arthur whipping their heads around, expressions furious. They had pulled into a sparsely inhabited parking lot for a motel. Matthew threw open the car door and crawled out, slamming it shut behind him. Arthur and Francis unbuckled their seat belts, clambering out of the car. Ivan and Alfred sat frozen in place, faces painted with horror as Arthur stormed over to the door Ivan was currently pressed against. Arthur grabbed the door’s handle and jerked it open, Ivan falling over to lay on the car seats completely, Alfred on top of him.

“Get out. Now,” Arthur commanded, green eyes swirling with frustration and anger. 

Ivan and Alfred scrambled out, standing straight and tall beside the car as they smoothed out their wrinkled clothes. Arthur stood before them, eyes narrowed and hands folded behind his back. Francis and Matthew stood a little to the side, both seeming much more passive now. Alfred and Ivan shot each other quick glares, but snapped back to attention as Arthur cleared his throat.

“So, it seems you two had a scuffle, yes?” Arthur said, face a hardened mask, eyes cold and dark. Ivan and Alfred nodded. Arthur hummed, “Well, it also seems that some form of punishment must be enforced, yes?” The two nodded again, meekly. “Yes, well your punishment has been decided,” Arthur said, gesturing to the motel behind him, “we’re staying the night at this motel, extending this trip just to torture the both of you.”

“WHAT?!” they cried in unison, Ivan with his hands fisted at his sides and cheeks puffed with frustration, Alfred running a hand through his hair, his other hand waving about as he struggled to come up with an argument. 

“But, but what about, uh, Matthew! And Francis! What’ll they think? That’s punishing all of us, which isn’t exactly fair,” Alfred countered, waving his hand angrily at Arthur.

Arthur glanced behind him to give Francis and Matthew a good look, examining their passive and bored expressions. He turned back to Alfred and Ivan, grinning. “I don’t think they mind,” he snickered.

“But my sisters!” Ivan objected weakly, now tugging on his scarf. 

“They can wait. I can call them and tell them why we’ll be later than expected, if you wish,” Arthur said, reaching into his pocket.

“No!” Ivan wailed, covering his face. “They’ll be so mad at me.” Alfred cringed, stuffing his hands into his pockets and hanging his head. Ivan whimpered, staring down at his feet once his let his hands drop.

Arthur nodded, “Alright then, it’s settled. We’ll be staying the night here.” He turned and walked to Francis, patting his shoulder (a little too roughly) and saying, “Go get us a room, Francy pants.”

Francis rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. He hesitated, a sudden devious smirk crossing his face. He leaned over to Matthew and whispered something to him. Matthew giggled, nodding in agreement to whatever Francis said. Francis grinned, and walked off to the motel. Matthew glanced back to Ivan and Alfred, looking them up and down. Alfred narrowed his eyes at his brother, not liking the dark glint in Matthew’s eyes. 

“He’s up to something,” Alfred muttered, clenching and unclenching his hands in his pockets.

“Does it matter?” Ivan hissed, crossing his arms and glaring at Alfred.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Alfred snapped.

“Quiet!” Arthur scolded, stomping over and pointing an accusatory finger at them. “I thought I made it clear that I didn’t want to hear another little snarky comment from either of you, or else there’ll be consequences!” 

Ivan and Alfred nodded to show they understood, sighing in relief when Arthur walked off to chat with Matthew. Alfred glanced to Ivan, examining him quickly. Alfred discovered that Ivan was rather cute when he was like this, defeated and pouty. The way he pulled his scarf up to cover his face, embarrassed that he was so easily stopped by Arthur. Alfred smirked as Ivan tugged on the bottom of his shorts, shifting and squirming as they waited for Francis to return.

Alfred hated to admit it, but Ivan was pretty hot. 

“Aha! There he is!” Arthur said, pointing to Francis as he walked out of the building. Francis waved to them, jogging over with a grin. 

“We’ve got a room,” said Francis, flicking his hair from his face and blowing Arthur a kiss. “I did just as asked. Everything’s perfectly fine and under control.” He waved a key in front of him, Arthur snatching it from his hand with a growl.

“Oh, shut it frog,” Arthur snapped, turning back to the car. He shot Ivan and Alfred a suspicious glance before marching up to the vehicle and popping open the trunk. “Alfred, you’ll be carrying our bags. If you can’t handle it by yourself, Ivan will help,” Arthur commanded

“What? Why me?” Alfred groaned.

“Because I said so,” Arthur growled, snapping his fingers and pointing into the trunk. “Do it. Now.” 

Alfred gulped and nodded, walking over to the car’s trunk and grabbing a bag. Ivan followed behind him, casting Arthur a nervous glance.

Arthur smirked, “You two can figure out how you’ll handle the bags, we’ll be waiting by the room.” He turned and walked to Francis and Matthew, the group of them walking off to the door to their room. 

Alfred glared at their backs as they walked away, grumbling to himself as he grabbed another bag. Ivan stood silently beside him, hands behind his back and his face buried in his scarf. He rocked on his heels as he watched Alfred grab the rest of the bags, holding five in total. 

“Aren’t those heavy? Do you need help?” Ivan mumbled, reaching a tentative hand outwards.

Alfred snorted, “I’m stronger than you, and you know it. No, I don’t need help.”

Ivan recoiled, his face flushed and his eyebrows furrowed. “Fine then, be that way,” he hissed. He turned and stalked away, heading for the rest of their group.

“What’s his problem,” Alfred muttered, shifting the bags to his other hand so he could close the trunk. He put three bags on one side, the other two in his other hand. Alfred followed in the direction Ivan went, rethinking their previous interactions. He came to the conclusion that it was perhaps his fault that Ivan had reacted that way, in both the car and by the trunk. 

He figured that he ought to act a little differently to gain a better reaction and to make Ivan like him more, but Alfred didn’t know if he wanted to put that much effort into it. They seemed to be getting along just fine right now, and he didn’t feel like trying to change it. It’d be nice if they were closer so Alfred didn’t feel weird about having the hots for Ivan, but at the same time, they were pretty close and Alfred didn’t care. They just fought a lot, that’s all. 

Alfred stopped the rest of his thought process as he arrived with the rest of his group, ignoring the quick glare Ivan shot his way. He gave them a stiff and quick wave, finding it hard to do so with his hand weighed down by the many bags h held. Arthur nodded and unlocked the door, waltzing in with Francis and Matthew following. Ivan scurried in as well, Alfred trotting up behind him. 

The room wasn’t too small, a brown couch sat against a wall, a TV mounted on the opposite wall. Pictures of nameless landscapes were scattered across the walls, a relatively small kitchen area little to the side of the TV. The bathroom door was slightly ajar, placed to the side of the couch. It didn’t smell, and the room wasn’t messy. There wasn’t really anything special about it, but one thing did jump out at them. There were only two beds.

“I call the couch,” Matthew said, taking his bag from Alfred’s hand and flopping down on the sofa’s cushioned seats. 

“What? No!” Alfred cried in surprise, reaching a hand out for his brother. Matthew grinned at him, sitting up straight.

“Sorry Al, I called it. It’s too late,” Matthew snickered, sticking his tongue out and shrugging. 

Arthur rolled his eyes and strode over to one of the beds. Francis followed him, taking both his and Arthur’s bags from Alfred. “Oh, don’t cry about it Alfred. It’s not too much of a big deal, though I am upset that Francis seems to have done this on purpose,” Arthur said, shooting Francis a glare. Francis shrugged, dropping the bags he held by the foot of the bed. 

“Looks like you’ll be sharing a bed with Ivan, then,” Matthew sighed, resting his arms and head on the couch’s armrest. Alfred glanced back at Ivan, surprised to see the flushed and flustered expression on his face. Ivan looked up and accidentally met Alfred’s gaze. His face turned bright red, and he buried his face in his scarf.

“Uh, do we have to?” Alfred asked, shifting the bags in his hands.

“Does it look like there’s another option?” Arthur replied sarcastically. 

Alfred shrugged and sighed, “I guess not.” He walked over and dropped the remaining two bags on the other bed, shooting Ivan a quick look. Ivan had walked into the room and closed the door behind him, and now he stood beside the couch. He’d been staring at Alfred, and their gazes met once more. Ivan blushed again, and Alfred couldn’t help but do the same. 

He was cute. 

His flushed cheeks contrasting against his pale skin, the way his eyelashes fluttered and brushed against his cheeks. His ashen blond hair that fell into his face, and when he buried his face in his scarf from embarrassment. Alfred found him cute. 

He smiled and waved. Ivan responded with a weak wave of his own. Alfred didn’t really want to sleep in the same bed as Ivan, but a small part of him was excited, and he felt it was only growing larger.

00oo00oo00

Alfred yawned and stretched. He threw himself backwards onto his bed, throwing his arms out and wrinkling the sheets. 

“Stop being extra, Alfred,” Arthur sighed, sitting down on the bed across from Alfred. Francis laughed, laying himself down beside Arthur. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Alfred replied, crawling under the blankets. Arthur rolled his eyes and climbed into his own bed, Francis purring as he did the same. The bathroom door swung open, and Ivan walked out in his pajamas. Alfred couldn’t help but admire them in their skimpy, lilac glory.

Short shorts with frilly lace at the bottom, a long sleeve shirt that hung off his shoulder. Three buttons going down from his collar, all unbuttoned. The wrists of the shirt clung to his arms, the rest poofing out and bunching up at the bottom. The pajamas put his milky white legs out on display, and gave Alfred a wonderful view of Ivan’s neck and shoulders. Alfred glanced down at his own pajamas, his bland and uninteresting. Merely his boxers and a tank top, both a dark gray. 

Ivan rubbed his eyes as he slid into bed, Alfred grinning at him from where he lay. Ivan glanced at him, blushed, and looked away. Now that everyone was in their beds, it was time to sleep. Arthur reached over and switched off the lamp on the nightstand, Ivan did the same. 

Alfred laid there quietly, his world now plunged into darkness. He couldn’t see, but the image of Ivan was still vivid in his mind. He wiggled himself deeper into his blankets, closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.

00oo00oo00

Alfred couldn’t sleep, and he could tell Ivan couldn’t either. Ivan was constantly shifting, and every time his leg brushed up against Alfred’s it sent shivers up his spine. He didn’t know how long it had been, but it felt like forever. Forever of quick brushes and touches, forever of listening to the quickening of Ivan’s breath.

Alfred couldn’t take it anymore, so he did something.

He grabbed Ivan’s arm, and pulled him close. Ivan flinched at first, stiffened in Alfred’s arms. But, after a second, he relaxed. Alfred’s heart beat faster, his breath caught in his throat. Ivan pushed himself against Alfred, slowly snaking his arms around Alfred’s neck. Alfred smirked in the darkness, leaning his face forward, pushing it to the side. He made contact with Ivan’s neck, he heard Ivan hold his breath. 

Alfred licked and nipped at Ivan’s neck, wrapping his arms around Ivan’s middle. Ivan shivered in his arms, tightening his grip around Ivan’s neck.

“Kiss me,” Ivan whispered, rubbing himself against Alfred. 

Alfred snickered, pulling his head away, and staring at Ivan. He was lucky it’d be a while, if they’d started this earlier his eyes wouldn’t have adjusted to the dark. He leaned in and kissed Ivan, relishing in the taste of Ivan’s soft lips. Ivan kissed back, moving his lips against Alfred’s and humming quietly. Alfred licked at Ivan’s lips and grabbed at Ivan’s backside.

Ivan gasped, and Alfred shoved his tongue into Ivan’s mouth. Ivan moaned ever so quietly, and Alfred pulled away. Ivan whimpered, draping one leg over Alfred’s side. 

“Quiet,” Alfred purred against Ivan’s lips. Ivan nodded, pressing his lips back against Alfred’s. Alfred smirked and kissed back once more, sliding his tongue back into Ivan’s mouth. He let his tongue explore Ivan’s mouth, finding the taste of Ivan absolutely delectable. He reached down and massaged Ivan’s inner thigh, enjoying the sound of Ivan struggling to hold back his moans.

Alfred pushed himself up to be above Ivan, staring down at Ivan’s flushed face in the darkness. Ivan bit his lip, pulling Alfred down to him. He pecked Alfred’s lips, swinging one leg around Alfred. Alfred grinned, leaning back down to Ivan’s neck, biting and kissing the soft, sensitive skin there. Ivan gasped, arching his back and pulling Alfred farther down. 

Ivan wrapped his legs around Alfred’s hips, whimpering as Alfred reached his hand up, pushing Ivan’s shirt up so it bunched up just below his chin. Alfred rubbed Ivan’s nipple with a dark smirk. Ivan whined, jerking his hips up and grinding himself against Alfred. Alfred groaned quietly, biting down on Ivan’s neck, earning a quiet and strained moan from Ivan. Alfred’s hand trailed down from Ivan’s chest, to rest right above his crotch. Ivan squirmed as Alfred let his hand lay there, panting and yearning for more contact. 

Alfred grinned, slipping his hand under the waistband of Ivan’s pajama shorts, sliding it around to grope Ivan’s ass. Ivan shoved his hips into Alfred’s, pressing and pushing against him with vigor. Alfred groaned quietly, his boxers growing tighter by the second. 

“Fuck,” Alfred hissed, squeezing Ivan’s soft skin in his fingers, loving Ivan’s strangled gasps. Ivan’s grip was tight around Alfred’s neck, pulling Alfred close to press up against his body constantly. Alfred barely even needed to support himself, so he pulled his other arm away from its spot beside Ivan’s head. He sat back, resting himself between Ivan’s legs. He flashed Ivan his classic grin, Ivan responding with a weak smile, face flushed. 

Alfred tugged Ivan’s shorts down, his other hand caressing Ivan’s chest. He pinched and rubbed Ivan’s nipple, leaning back down and capturing Ivan’s lips once more. Ivan’s moans were silenced by Alfred’s lips. Alfred smirked down at Ivan’s bulge, slipping his hand into Ivan’s boxers. He wrapped his hand around Ivan’s member, sliding his hand up and down before stopping again.

“Mmmm, Alfred,” Ivan whined, thrusting his hips upwards. Alfred groaned and rocked his hips against Ivan’s ass, slamming his mouth back onto Ivan’s. Ivan whimpered as Alfred continued to rub his nipple, rock against him, and stroke him. “Ah, more Alfred, more!” Ivan begged, pushing himself down to meet Alfred as he thrusted against him. Alfred bit down on Ivan’s neck again, sucking and nipping his skin. Ivan let out the loudest moan so far, immediately slapping his hand over his mouth to silence himself. 

“If you two are gonna do this, you need to be a lot quieter,” Matthew sighed.

Alfred and Ivan froze, both holding their breaths. They heard a quiet chuckle from Matthew before it all went quiet again. Alfred pushed himself a bit away from Ivan, looking down at Ivan’s mortified expression.

“Wanna do this in the bathroom?” Alfred whispered. Ivan locked up for a second before he nodded, not meeting Alfred’s gaze as he tugged his pajama shorts back on. Alfred slid out of the bed, Ivan following. They scurried to the bathroom, slipping inside and locking the door behind them.

“You owe me 10 bucks,” Francis said smugly.

Arthur groaned, “Oh, shut up you frog.” Matthew snickered, rolling over and burrowing into his blankets. Francis laughed, wrapping himself around Arthur. Arthur grumbled, but settled into Francis’s arms quickly. Matthew sighed again, this time contentedly, nuzzling his fluffy and warm blankets. He didn’t find it too difficult to ignore the noises coming from the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dunno why I wrote this  
guess I'm just thirsty OwO  
anyway  
I write this kind of thing at night so like :/  
I have no impulse control :)


	9. Trustworthy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is the first england x russia one I guess
> 
> you see that germany/russia tag? don't worry! that story will be done soon, it's not even that long I just have zero motivation 
> 
> but anyway
> 
> it doesn't matter so yeehaw

“You called for me?” Arthur asked, pushing the throne room’s door shut behind him. Alfred looked away from his love, Ivan, his eyes narrowing for a moment before he nodded. Arthur shuffled forward, careful not to wrinkle the rich red carpet beneath his feet. He subconsciously ran his hands down his vest to smooth out the wrinkles, wincing at the muffled sound of his heeled shoes hitting the ground. He didn’t want to look up once he reached the steps before the throne, but he knew he had to. 

Arthur looked up, arms bent up behind his back to hide his twitching fingers. His breath caught in his throat as his green eyes locked onto Alfred’s blues. Arthur glanced to Ivan, flinching at the cold gaze Ivan cast upon him. Ivan shifted, letting himself slide to the ground as his arms folded on Alfred’s armrest. Alfred raised an eyebrow as he moved his arm out of the way, his lips quirking up into a smirk as Ivan’s eyelids fluttered. Alfred pet Ivan’s head, chuckling as Ivan purred and hummed his approval. Alfred’s attention returned to Arthur, and he spoke.

“I did call for you,” Alfred said, his tone as cold and reserved as always. He turned to Ivan, his lips parted as he whispered to him. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, love. Don’t worry, I’ll send someone to fetch you once we’ve finished.” Arthur struggled to make out the words, even knowing they weren’t meant for him. Ivan nodded in response, pushing himself up from the ground and slipping down the steps. 

He reached the bottom of the steps, hips swaying with the transparent ruffles lining the edge of his clothes. Ivan continued past Arthur, but, for a moment, his pace wavered. The moment when he was just beside Arthur, he paused. A quiet message slipping from his lips, meant for Arthur’s ears only.

“Keep it together, Iggy,” Ivan purred. Arthur froze up, his already stiff body stiffening. He eyes followed Ivan’s curvy body, terror and panic flooding his veins as Ivan winked at him, a smirk crossing his pale face. Arthur gulped, clenching his hands and shivering as he watching Ivan every second he could before Ivan passed from his line of sight. Arthur’s eyes shot back to Alfred. Alfred’s eyes were glued to Ivan, staring and watching every moment until finally the throne room’s door was pulled open and shut again. And suddenly, Alfred’s eyes were on Arthur’s and his expression was colder than before.

“I don’t trust him,” Alfred hissed, pushing himself up from his throne. The jingling of medals and jewelry followed his every move, his thick, red cape dragging along the carpet beneath his feet. Alfred stood on the edge of the first step, cold blue eyes locked onto Arthur.

“Ivan?” Arthur choked out. 

Alfred nodded, “I don’t trust him. He says he loves me, but I believe he’s been seeing someone else behind my back.” The color drained from Arthur’s face, sweat drenching his skin as his mind drifted to Ivan. Ivan, a pale and smooth god of curves and lust. Ivan of begging and moans and cries of pleasure. “I need help. Help to see if I’m right, or if ‘m wrong,” Alfred sighed, taking one step downwards. The ringing and clinking of Alfred’s clothes brought Arthur’s attention back to reality.

“How?” Arthur croaked, clearing his throat and struggling to slow his breathing. Alfred hummed, his eyes drifting off to some empty corner of the room as he thought. He dropped down another step, eye refocusing and gluing themselves back to Arthur.

“I’d have them stay with my Ivan, have them watch him and never let him be in the same room alone with another. I’d need someone trustworthy,” he replied, eyes narrowed to slits as he examined Arthur. “Someone, perhaps, like you.”

Arthur almost choked on his own breath, his heart beating faster and faster in his chest. His breathing, despite his best efforts, quickened, almost panting as he struggled to contain himself. Trustworthy? Really? Arthur, of all people? But he guessed it made sense, after all, Alfred didn’t know. He didn’t know that Arthur’s mind was on nothing but the way Ivan arched his back as he cried out in pleasure, and the way Ivan whimpered when Arthur tried to leave. Or when Arthur focused on a specific spot on Ivan’s neck, he could have Ivan screaming. 

Alfred didn’t know, and Arthur wanted to keep it that way. 

“Like me? Or maybe, do want me?” Arthur inquired, his tone failing to portray the panic he felt. 

Alfred smirked, “Maybe I do.” Another step down, plus two more. Good. Alfred wanted this to be Arthur’s job. And it should be. Anyone else would fail. Arthur refused to let Ivan be supervised constantly be anyone else. Arthur would be with Ivan always, never a second when he didn’t have access to Ivan. Ivan would be happy too, no doubt. No one could stop them. Arthur had small power, but enough. Enough for this.

“I’d be honored,” Arthur said, struggling to keep the excitement from his voice. Alfred had no idea. Not a clue. He had no idea that Arthur knew how loud Ivan could get, how horny he was. How much he hated Alfred.

Alfred had no idea.

“Then you’re hired,” Alfred grinned, his pace quickening as he descended the stairs. Arthur bowed his head as Alfred approached him. He heard Alfred’s hum of approval, his body freezing up once more as he felt Alfred near. Arthur raised his head again, his heart pounding in his ears as Alfred stood before him. Alfred smiled down on him, though his eyes were hollow and empty, a void of nothing desired. 

No wonder Ivan hated Alfred. No wonder Ivan chose Arthur.

No wonder Arthur was terrified.

And, as Arthur stared into the eyes of the one man he feared most, the most powerful and petrifying man in the entirety of this vast kingdom, he could only think one thing: Ivan chose me. 

And Ivan had.

And now, nothing would separate them, not even their king, not even their master. Their oblivious, stupid, ignorant master. This man who thought of Arthur as trustworthy? 

This man a fool.

And Ivan was his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story was nothing like the original intention, I just had an idea today and shoved this story together because it fit 
> 
> yeehaw


	10. A Leader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> man this is just nothing at all
> 
> I just wanted to try writing from first person but then it turned into this
> 
> I really don't know

Everyone has always hated our leader. No matter who it was, they were always hated and seen as horrible people who didn’t deserve to rule. It didn’t matter what they tried to do, good or bad, they would be overthrown. The very next leader would be loved for a short while, the longest amount of time so far is 2 years, still going, shortest 3 days. But, eventually, this new leader, one picked by the people, would die as well. It wasn’t always a riot slaughtering the new royal family, sometimes it was an assassination, the assassin having high hopes for the late tyrant’s offspring. Those poor kids always failed in the end, though. Their lives always cut short. It really wasn’t fair. Most times, the kids wouldn’t even be 18 yet. They were never fit to rule, and yet the cycle kept going. 

Few people have ever thought that it might be the advisers fault. Which it is, I should know. I’m one of them. Well, a descendant. I was forced into this role, wasn’t very happy with it, but Father said it was what was best for me, so I complied. All of the advisers are corrupt, even the few friends I’ve made here are always looking for opportunities for themselves, looking for ways to stab others in the back for their own benefit. I fear I am the only one trying to keep our king alive. It must be stressful for him, I know it is for me. He’s only two years older than me, though he’ll be turning 20 in a few months, making it seem like 3, I suppose. I myself am 17, the age our king was when his family was killed. His older sister, Alice, as well as his twin brother, Matthew, were gutted, his parents decapitated. 

I sympathize with him, I can’t imagine living without my sisters. It seems I am his favorite adviser, as I am the one he talks to most. I believe that he has figured out how the other advisers only wish for their own wealth and try to sabotage him every chance they get. He always comes to me for advice, and I always do my best. He is more popular than past rulers, though there is still so much hate for him in the city. His rule is the longest so far, and I truly hope it isn’t cut short. It would be a shame, and I know I wouldn’t be able to stop blaming myself.

00oo00oo00

“Vanya, King Alfred is calling for you,” Katyusha said as she pushed open the door. I glanced up from my book, sliding my bookmark between the pages as I shut it and hold it close to my chest. Natalia leaned into my side as I moved to get up, whining as I pulled away from her.

“Did he say what for?” I asked, swinging my legs off the bed and dropping the book onto the blankets beside me. Katyusha shrugs as she throws herself onto the soft sheets of our shared bed. She munches on the muffin she took from the kitchen.

“I dunno, adviser business I guess,” she sighed as she reached to pat Natalia’s head. Natalia hissed and pulled away from her, swatting at Katyusha’s hand. I chuckled, used to my sister’s antics. Katyusha broke off a piece of her muffin, extending it towards Natalia as a peace offering. Natalia frowned at her, blue eyes narrowed and swirling with irritation.

“You think they’d give us separate rooms to sleep in in this huge castle,” Natalia grumbled as Katyusha wraps her arms around her in a bone crushing embrace, now refusing her younger sister the muffin chunk.

Katyusha laughed, “Yes, but we both know you prefer sleeping in the same bed as Vanya.” Natalia curled in on herself as I giggled, flashing both sisters a grin as I wrap my scarf around my neck. I straightened up Katyusha’s boots that she so careless threw to the ground beside the door. I reached over for a matchbox on the table beside the bedroom door, grabbing it and stuffing it into my pocket.

“You should be a little more organized, sestra,” I muttered, brushing my bangs out of my face. Katyusha laughed again, squeezing Natalia tighter and nuzzling her hair, dusting muffin crumbs atop Natalia’s head. Natalia squirmed in Katyusha’s hold, expression darkening as Katyusha dirtied her hair.

“Da, but I’m tired. It’s strange for Fedya to call for you at night,” she mumbled, reaching her hand out blindly in search of the book. I smiled, both at the nickname for our king and Katyusha’s search. Katyusha’s face lit up as she finally grabbed hold of the book, shifting so that Natalia was now in her lap. She opened the book up and grinned at me, “You were reading to her, right? I can do it until she gets back, da?” she asked, bright smile still in place. I nodded, smile widening into a grin as Natalia scowled.

“Return soon, big brother,” Natalia called as I turn the doorknob, pushing the door open and stepping out into the cool hallway. I flashed my sisters one last smile as Katyusha shoved the rest of the muffin into her mouth.

“Of course, Nat. I’ll be back as soon as possible,” I responded, finishing with a small wave that both sisters return. I closed the door slowly, releasing the doorknob when I hear the quiet click of the door sliding into place. I turned to walk down the hall, my socked feet silent on the wooden floors, the goal of course, until I reach the red carpet trailing down the hallway. I reached into my pocket, pulling out the match box and glancing around the dark hallway. I pulled out a match, struggling to light it on the side of the box. It startled me as the fire burst into existence, instantly lighting up the dark hallway.

I glanced around, shivering and holding myself tight. The hallway was still so dark, and it was scary, the dirty stone walls and their ominous paintings of bloodied past rulers, many of the paintings unfinished. I began my trek down the hallway to the throne room, whimpering as I shuffled down the hall. It felt strange, walking down the hall with those empty, soulless eyes of each ruler, tyrant, king, emperor staring at me, watching my every move and studying my form. I’d grown used to it in the day, but at night, in the darkness, it was terrifying. I couldn’t wait to get to the throne room, so I ran.

I ran all the way to the throne room, having memorized the route. I make many trips to the throne room, from my room, from the kitchen, wherever. I know where it is. It’s not hard to forget, as the room is quite important. I rarely see Alfred out of the throne room, that’s just where he is. That’s where we are. Almost always.

And there I was. The throne room.

I pushed the door open, and stepped in. There was Alfred, tall and strong. Broad shoulders and his tan skin. His sunny blond hair ruffling as he turned to face me. He never looked happier than when he was looking at me. Ivan flushed as he smiled at me, his blue eyes sparkling as I smiled back.

“Ivan,” he greeted.

“Alfred,” I replied, bowing my head slightly. Once I’d brought my head up again, I was greeted with the sight of Alfred, now closer, minus his usual heavy fur cape. His crown rested upon a table beside his throne, and his hair was messier than usual. He looked tired, but happy. Perhaps dizzy, woozy. Drunk. 

I glanced to the place where his crown rested once more, finding there to be a mostly empty glass of amber liquid beside it. Sure enough, Alfred was drunk. I’d never seen him drunk before, didn’t know what to expect. I looked back to Alfred. He was closer, his speed unwavering and his stance sturdy despite the alcohol in his system. 

“Um, Katyusha said you needed me. What for?” I mumbled, embarrassment flooding my body as Alfred stared at me. The way he looked at me was different, something strange and new swirling in his eyes. It made me uncomfortable.

Alfred nodded, a dark grin spreading across his face. It made my skin crawl. “Come,” he said, gesturing for me to follow. He turned and walked to his throne, the cape he must’ve shed earlier draped across the chair’s high back. I did as told and followed hesitantly, something in his tone causing me to shiver. His voice seemed deeper, gravely. He sat himself in his throne, beckoning for me to come closer. 

I inched forward, my eyes darting around the room, panic flooding my veins for a moment. I struggled to calm myself. This was Alfred we were talking about. He was nice, kind. He cared about me. He wasn't this kind of person. But Alfred always has been a good liar. Just never thought he'd lie to me.

I now stood before Alfred, flinching as Alfred sat forward in his seat. I felt underdressed. Any moment with Alfred was supposed to be proper and formal. I should’ve changed to help keep it that way, but both my sisters were there and I didn’t want to keep Alfred waiting. But maybe I should’ve. The clothes I wore seemed too thin, too casual. I don’t even know if Alfred had seen me dressed like this before. I don’t think he’d ever called for me at night before. My clothes of a thin long-sleeved shirt, too big for and almost sliding off my shoulder, my gray pants, my boring socks, my scarf. It was informal. It was wrong.

Alfred grinned at me, and I gave a weak smile in return. I was nervous, and I didn’t know why. Something was off. Something about Alfred. Maybe it was the way he was looking at me, the way he stared at my hips and my chest, eyes roving up my legs and devouring the small area of exposed skin around my shoulders. Alfred was off. He was drunk.

He grabbed my arm, and yanked me down. I stumbled forward, and he grabbed my shoulder, shoving me to my knees in front of him. I cried out, pain shooting from my knees. There must’ve been bruises forming because of him. My eyes had clamped shut on instinct, so I pried them open. I found myself with my head between Alfred’s legs, so close to his crotch, how strangely round it was. Something was straining against the fabric. I swallowed thickly as I registered what was happening. 

My instinct was to thrash about and escape, but this was Alfred. This was my king.

“Relax Ivan,” Alfred purred, rubbing my shoulder as he sat back in his seat. I struggled to obey, sighing heavily as I dropped my hands between my legs and sat down farther, no longer directly on my knees. “I need you to do something for me, Ivan,” Alfred sighed, his other hand trailing up my cheek to pet my hair. “It’s very important, darling. Very important.” I shook slightly as he continued petting my hair and rubbing my shoulder, slowly moving his hand up closer to my neck. He gripped the back of my neck, jerking my head forward. I cried out again, my hands shooting up and grabbing onto Alfred’s thighs to stop myself. 

I now found myself inches from Alfred’s crotch, his bulge. I gulped, my face flushed as tears stung the corners of my eyes. “W-what do you need me to do?” I choked out.  
Alfred chuckled darkly, “I think you already know, sweetheart.” I hoped I’d been wrong. Hoped against hope that I’d been wrong, but that wasn’t a possibility at this point.

I really didn’t want this.

Alfred pulled his hand from petting my hair, moving quickly to his pants. “I want you. So bad,” Alfred panted, his hand now rubbing himself through his pants. “You’re so pretty, with your pale skin and your pale hair, and those rosy lips of yours. I want to see them wrapped around my cock,” he growled. He reached for the edge of his pants, tugging them down along with his underwear. And there he was, grinning down on me as he stroked himself in from on my face. Tears dripped down my cheeks, another deep, twisted laugh rumbling in Alfred’s chest. 

He pressed the tip of his cock against my lips, his eyes glinting as he looked down on me. “Suck,” he commanded, pushing himself against my mouth harder. I hesitated, but the fear of what he might do to me if I refused overrode my system, and I opened my mouth. Feared he’d shove himself into my mouth without warning, but he paused. He let me move first. 

I whimpered as I leaned forward, taking Alfred’s member into my mouth. Alfred groaned quietly as I pressed forward, my hands digging into Alfred’s thighs. I hated the feeling of it in my mouth. It was too warm.

I put it in as far as I could, gagging before I pulled back. A string of saliva trailed from mouth mouth to Alfred’s dick, it snapped as I gasped for air. I sobbed quietly as I leaned back in, using one of my hands to stabilize it. I wrapped my lips around the tip, flinching as Alfred tangled his fingers in my hair.

“Good boy,” Alfred purred, jerking his hips forward. I gagged again as his cock hit the back of my throat, cringing as Alfred groaned with pleasure. I pulled back again, before diving forward once more. I began stroking what I couldn’t fit in my mouth with my hand, quickly wrapping my other hand around his member as well. 

I ran my tongue along the bottom, swirling it around the tip, earning a pleasured sigh from Alfred. He liked that. Maybe if I did it again he’d finish soon. I repeated the process of dragging my tongue along his dick, then bobbing my head again. Alfred hummed his approval, yanking my head farther down on his cock. He gasped, pulling my hair as my lungs burned for air. Once he loosened his grip, I pulled away, panting. More tears ran down my cheeks as I went back in, swallowing Alfred’s cock into my mouth once more. I sucked, hollowing my cheeks and bobbing my head. 

Alfred moaned, tugging my hair again and moving one hand to stroke my cheek. “So pretty,” Alfred panted. I closed my eyes tightly as a fresh wave of tears poured from my eyes, resoaking my cheek and getting on Alfred’s hand. Alfred hummed, “Look at me.” I did as told, prying my eyes open and staring up at Alfred as I continued to work. Alfred’s expression was lazy and pleasured, eyes shining with glee as I keep sucking and bobbing my head.

He frowned suddenly, before his expression quickly turned to cheeky and scheming. He reached a hand down, rubbing the side of my neck before trailing down and rubbing my chest. He pressed his hand to my nipple, caressing it and whispering encouragements as I gasped and licked his cock. I didn’t like it, any of it. The hand on my chest or the dick in my mouth. I hated it. It was terrible. But, despite all that, I found myself growing hard. I didn’t like it.

So I went faster, determined to get Alfred to finish so I could leave. Alfred chuckled above, quickly followed by a gasp and a moan. He grunted, rocking his hips up, pressing his cock deeper into my mouth. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, the hand in my hair yanking and tugging me forward. “I’m gonna cum,” he muttered, the hand on my chest pinching my nipple. I moaned, unable to bite my lips to silence myself. Alfred grinned at my, thrusting into my mouth before he yanked my head off his dick. He moaned as he came on my face, splattering his seed onto my mouth and cheeks. Some of it dripped into my mouth. I hated the taste of it, the texture, how hot it was. I hated it. Alfred sighed and smirked.

He yanked my hair up, dragging me with it. I stood on wobbly legs before Alfred, glaring and sniffling as tears mixed with the cum on my face. I stiffened as his hands traveled down my body, resting on my hips. He laughed as I flinched, his hand digging into me. He yanked my pants down, licking his lips as he stared at my cock. It was still hard. I hated it. He laughed again, grabbing my arm and tugging my forward. I fell into his lap with a grunt. Alfred righted my in his lap, staring into my eyes filled with rage.

“You’re a liar,” I whispered. He pressed his lips to mine, licking the cum from my lips. 

“And you’re a fool,” he sighed, one hand groping my backside, the other stroking me. I felt him harden against my ass, he rocked himself against me. I whimpered, sobbing quietly as I wiped my face. 

“Let’s get going,” he purred, smiling at me. I scowled back, hands clenched into fists as they rested on Alfred’s chest. 

“I’ll have you killed,” I growled. 

“Like that wasn’t already guaranteed,” he grinned. “Let’s get prepared. We don’t want it to hurt too much, do we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry because this story went waaaaay of track
> 
> I was like "bffs being friends but also having crushes on each other" and then I did this shit
> 
> wtf???? 
> 
> I have no idea what happened
> 
> okay lol 
> 
> yeehaw


	11. A feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fukin 
> 
> Ivan has emotions 
> 
> like that's it
> 
> I don't know what to tell you

Ivan had a feeling.

It was a new one, a little uncertain and fragile. It flickered and shook, made butterflies dance in his stomach, made him lightheaded. His hands would get sweaty, his grip on himself would loosen. He might tense up, or go completely limp. Sometimes it made his eyes water, and sometimes he could barely even speak. His hands could shake, or all of him could. A quiver in his voice, a falter in his step. Only when he got this feeling.

And only around Alfred. 

Ivan had no clue why. Why did he get this fragile and tender feeling around Alfred of all people? Alfred, the loudest and most obnoxious person he knew. Him and his endless energy. Him and his endless appetite. This sort of feeling was to be saved for someone better, someone kinder and gentler. This was a calm feeling, a warm feeling that Alfred was certainly not deserving of. A feeling like this wasn’t for Alfred. A strong feeling of annoyance and hatred was what Alfred deserved, that filthy pig. Alfred was so intolerant, and always talking. Always nagging and yelling and laughing. Alfred was loud, the exact opposite of the people Ivan wished to associate with. 

And yet, there was still his feeling. This warmth, this heat in his cheeks. These sweaty palms, and these shifting feet. An uncertain mind, and wandering thoughts. Why did Alfred do this to him. _How_ did Alfred do this to him? It didn’t make sense. 

And so, he made it his mission to grow closer to the source, to find out the cause. Ivan was determined, even if it meant spending time with the attention whore that was Alfred.

00oo00oo00

Ivan and Alfred were walking home together. It made his skin crawl the way Alfred looked at him, even just an innocent glance followed by Alfred’s signature grin. It had Ivan’s mind and heart racing. 

Alfred cast another glance his way, quickly looking back to the woods lining the sidewalk. Ivan tightened his grip on his backpack straps, desperately trying to ignore the dampening of the material. He felt a little dizzy, but mostly frustrated. 

Why wasn’t Alfred talking? 

Alfred was always talking. Every goddamn second of every goddamn day. So why was he being quiet now. 

Ivan had tried not to look at Alfred too much because of how warm his face grew when he caught sight of Alfred’s tan skin and messy hair, but he knew that Alfred had been watching the forest as it passed by them. Intently. Closely. Ivan had not a clue as to why.

Suddenly, Alfred’s hand swung over and latched onto Ivan’s arm. Ivan froze immediately, his heart almost stopping as Alfred turned to look at him with his huge grin plastered across his face.

“We’re here!” he practically squealed, the hand on Ivan’s arm loosening its grip. Ivan found himself feeling hollow as Alfred’s hand left his arm. He quickly ignored the feeling and questioned Alfred’s words.

“And where are we?” Ivan shot back, his eyebrow raised, his expression unimpressed. Ivan felt a small need to be different when with Alfred, perhaps kinder, but Ivan refused. He wasn’t giving someone like Alfred special treatment because of a feeling he had yet to define. He kept his same cool and collected attitude at all times, letting it slip only around people he actually valued (of which there were few).

Alfred rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and copying Ivan’s expression. “Ivan, have you lived under a rock? Everyone knows about the swing. Literally everyone. Even Kiku, who’s pretty much a hermit,” he sighed, shaking his head and dropping the mocking expression. Ivan flushed, clenching his hands instinctively. 

“The swing?” he hissed in response, refusing to acknowledge the clear insult. He wasn’t going to allow someone like Alfred to get under his skin, despite how aggravated he might seem. Ivan told himself he was perfectly calm, and then struggled to return to being calm. Alfred snickered as he watched Ivan collect himself, slipping out of his bristled and angered attitude and replacing it with a blank expression. 

After being ‘friends’ with Alfred for as long as Ivan had been, he was fairly certain he knew most of Alfred’s hobbies. And one of those just so happened to be torturing Ivan, as well as many others (it seemed Ivan was a favorite).

Alfred turned back to the woods, pointing to a small, trodden path with rocks littering the edge, appearing to be some kind of weak fence or border. Ivan was not impressed.

“The swing,” Alfred repeated. He then refused to elaborate. He began marching down the path, stopping only to beckon Ivan. “Come on dude,” he laughed, waving Ivan over. Ivan shifted from foot to foot, his bag’s straps very wet were his hands gripped them.

“I don’t know where we’re going, since you so _lovingly_ explained to me what this swing is, and I also don’t know how much time this is going to take. My mom might get worried,” Ivan said, glancing down the sidewalk, then back to Alfred.

Alfred barked a laughed, covering his mouth as Ivan jumped slightly. He quickly recovered, glaring at Alfred as the boy kept laughing. Alfred sighed and shook his head, resting his hands on his hips as he flashed Ivan a smile. “Don’t worry about it! I’m sure your mom won’t mind,” he called, gesturing for Ivan to follow as he took a few steps backwards. 

“But _Alfred_,” Ivan whined, tapping his foot as he bit his lip.

“Oh come on _Vanya_,” he purred, “or are you too scared? What, do you think I’ll murder you in the woods or something? Just come on!” Ivan blushed furiously, his knuckles whitening as rage and embarrassment swirled in his stomach. He hated it when Alfred used his nickname (and yet, a small bit of warmth and happiness fluttered alone in a sea of his foul emotions), it was so _girly_. He was only okay with it when his sisters said it. 

But, despite all the hatred and flustered butterflies dancing above a slowly forming pit in his stomach, Ivan followed. Quickly, he scurried after Alfred, grumbling as they found their way down the gently turning path. He glared at the bag that hung off Alfred’s shoulder, channelling his rage into this one very unpleasant scowl as he quietly imagined what Alfred kept in his bag. Alfred skipped forward a few paces, a quick and unexpected maneuver that Ivan didn’t realize had a reason. 

A large, fairly sturdy root trailing from a tree that fit the same description was protruding from the ground. Ivan of course was not aware of its existence, as he didn’t know of this swing Alfred spoke of. Alfred probably knew this and chose not to tell Ivan, but Ivan would dwell on these thoughts later. 

Alfred quickly turned around, his expression eager and excited. Ivan responded with a raised eyebrow. He then promptly fell over, that one rebellious tree root being to powerful for Ivan’s not-so-great balance. As he fell, he instinctively stretched his arms out, reaching and grabbing at anything that could perhaps stop his descent. He grabbed onto Alfred, who was entirely useless in stopping Ivan from collapsing on the ground. But at least Alfred was dragged into it as well.

They fell to the ground with a loud and shared ‘oof’, dust floating into the air in an exciting adventure before immediately returning to the ground. Ivan laid on top of Alfred’s chest, his cheek resting right near Alfred’s heart, the steady beating of it echoing in Ivan’s ears. Ivan feared that Alfred would be upset, but he was instead greeted with a deep, rumbling laughter that bubbled up in Alfred’s chest, shaking the place where Ivan’s head rested. 

Ivan scowled, shoving himself up and away from Alfred, quickly dragging himself to his feet and dusting himself off. Alfred sat up and continued to laugh while he rubbed the back of his head. Ivan found himself missing the comforting echo of Alfred’s beating heart and the gentle shaking of Alfred’s chest. An angry blush crept back onto Ivan’s face as Alfred stood up.

“Nice job, ya big klutz,” Alfred snickered, pinching Ivan’s cheek before pulling away and continuing down the path. Ivan hiss at the quick pain, pressing a hand to his cheek as he followed, silently stewing in his anger. 

Alfred’s backpack was dirty, and for some reason, Ivan felt slightly guilty. He ignored the lingering guilt and continued on, a faint familiar feeling quickly flicking past in his head before it dashed away. Ivan’s face grew warm again, and he had to admit, it was incredibly unpleasant.

The trees around them began thinning out, a few bursts of thick brush and wildflowers filling in a few of the gaps. Alfred jogged ahead, his bag swaying and bouncing against his back as he went. Ivan glowered and kept at his same pace, keeping an eye to the ground, wary of any more roots, or perhaps even a large rock.

He heard Alfred skid to stop in front of him, and Ivan quickly looked up. His eyes widened as he stared at the small river that ran in front of them. Alfred turned around, one hand gripping the strap of his backpack while his other arm was swung out the side, presenting the river to Ivan.

“We’re here, for real this time!” he grinned, his eyes locked onto Ivan’s. Ivan flushed, his skin burning in embarrassment as Alfred stared at him. He heard Alfred snicker as he glanced away, and he felt his face reddening even more. He almost wanted to cry. 

“Where is here?” Ivan snapped, his eyes narrowed as he glared at Alfred, that strange, unnamed feeling dancing in his chest again. He decided to channel this feeling and turn it into anger, of which he had plenty.

“The birthplace of the swing,” Alfred said, sweeping his arms in an arc above his head. 

Ivan snorted, “Swings were not invented here.” 

Alfred shrugged, his eyes fluttering closed as he grinned. One eye cracked one, casting Ivan an amused glance. “Who’s to say? But, I do know that this one, specific swing was made here,” he chuckled, quickly dropping his outstretched arms. He grabbed the strap of his bag, swinging it off his shoulder and holding it as he once more gestured for Ivan to follow. Ivan did so without question.

“This, my friend,” Alfred began (and a strange pit in Ivan’s stomach appeared at the use of the word ‘friend’), “is where our swing resides.” He patted the trunk of a thick, sturdy tree, its long branches stretching out far, many reaching near the middle of the rushing river. 

“And where is the swing?” Ivan asked nervously, his gaze flickering from the water to Alfred. Alfred grinned again, this time with a glint in his eyes that sent a shiver down Ivan’s spine. This time, Ivan couldn’t figure out if he liked it or not. 

Alfred dropped his bag by the base of the tree, swiftly scaling it until he reached a particularly thick branch that stretched across only a third of the river. Alfred crouched atop it, beaming down at the now thoroughly shaken Ivan. He ignored Ivan’s clear signs of fear and regret, and began fiddling around with something that Ivan couldn’t see at the base of the branch. A rope swung down, a large plastic disk hung from the bottom, the rope pulled through a hole in the center with a huge knot tied on the other end.

“Behold, the swing!” Alfred cried as the rope ‘swing’ did what it was meant to do and swung lazily above the water. The rope was tied with knots and knots and more knots towards the middle of the branch, most likely in the spot only barely strong enough to hold a human’s weight. He remembered that a certain brunet cousin of his had a swing similar to this at one point.

Ivan gulped. 

“So, uh, what’re we going to do with this swing?” Ivan croaked, taking a step back and grinding the toe of his white sneaker into the dirt. He thought perhaps his mother would be upset with him for dirtying it, but he figured it was the least of his worries right now. Alfred snorted as he clambered back down the tree, brushed himself off once he’d reached the bottom. He reached out across the water, stretching his arm as much as he could. The ‘swing’ swung towards him, the rope crashing into his hand. Alfred slipped a bit as he gripped the rope, and Ivan took a moment to examine it. 

It seemed sturdy enough, its width rather big for a rope. It was large enough that even Alfred’s hand barely gripped around it fully, and Ivan knew Alfred had large hands for someone his age.

He paused for a moment, wondering why he’d felt the need to know such blatantly nonessential information about Alfred, information such as the size of his hands. Another blush crept onto Ivan’s face as Alfred turned to finally respond to him.

“We’ll be swinging on it, duh,” he laughed, shoving his glasses up his nose with his free hand. Ivan froze, a cold sweat coating his skin as he stared at the rope swing Alfred held in his hand. He didn’t trust that pathetic excuse for a swing in the slightest.

“Why?” Ivan squeaked, his hands, with nothing better to do, staying locked onto his backpack straps. 

Alfred rolled his eyes. “Because it’ll be fun! Just like in those clips you see with the guys in bathing suits swinging across rivers! Someone in our neighborhood saw those videos and decided to make it a reality for us. You should be thankful and do it,” he said, finishing on a more stern note. Ivan bit his lip, glancing back to the path they came from and thinking about how easy it would be to just sprint away and never look back.

But then again, he still hadn’t gotten his answer. His reason for a strange warm feeling that accompanied Ivan whenever with Alfred. He needed an answer. So he stayed. He looked back to Alfred, his anxiety levels still sky high despite his hardened resolve. 

“Uh, but, um, _how_ do I do this?” Ivan stuttered, his face flushing for the thousandth time today. He felt weak as Alfred let out a bark of rich laughter, his blue eyes sparkling with joy as looked at Ivan. 

“Oh, you’re a good one. I’ll have to keep you around,” Alfred sighed, wiping a tear from his eye. He gestured for Ivan come near, “Come on, I’ll show you.” Ivan nodded, an uncertain and shaky smile crossing his face as he approached. _He wants to keep me around_, Ivan thought, his smile turning giddy as he glanced at the ground. He caught himself, shoving all positive Alfred thoughts down the drain.

Focusing on this new task at hand was more important. He dropped his backpack by Alfred’s before turning back to him.

“Watch me,” Alfred ordered. Ivan nodded obediently, his eyes now glued to Alfred, not like they hadn’t been already. Alfred gave an approving nod before he began his demonstration.

He steadied himself on the tree, one hand pressed against the bark and the other firmly gripping the rope. He gave the plastic disk on the bottom a determined stare before he hoisted himself up using both the rope and the tree, and deposited himself onto the disk. He grinned down at Ivan, swaying a foot or two above the ground, his feet planted firmly on the plastic disk.

“You got it?” Alfred asked, his tone excited as he swung gently in the air.

“I think,” Ivan muttered, averting his gaze. He heard the sound of Alfred jumping off, landing on the ground with a thud. He looked up again, his eyes meeting with Alfred’s.

“Here,” Alfred said, pushing the swinging towards Ivan. “You try. I’ll help, if you want.” Ivan nodded in response, hesitantly reaching his hands up and gripping the rope. Alfred let go, moving out of the way and gesturing to the tree.

“Brace yourself here,” Alfred advised. Ivan shuffled over to the tree, pressing a hand to its trunk and glancing nervously at Alfred. Alfred walked to his other side, practically locking Ivan between his body and the tree. Ivan found himself quickly distracted by how close they were.

“Now, push yourself up with the tree. Kind of jump up and hold yourself and push onto the swing, got it?” Alfred asked, gesturing around with his hands to somehow better convey his message. Ivan gave him a confused look, his hand tightening around the rope. “Here, I’ll just help you,” Alfred sighed.

Alfred inched closed, a hand now on Ivan’s back, pressing into him. Ivan shivered, biting his lip to keep from making a sound. He felt so embarrassed. Alfred didn’t seem to notice his flustered state, instead focusing on how to help Ivan. 

“Alright, I think you should just do it now. I’ll be here to catch you if you fall,” Alfred hummed, his eyebrows knitted as he thought for a moment. He shook his head, quickly returning to his former grin and nodding his head as a signal for Ivan to go. 

Ivan swallowed thickly, taking his eyes off Alfred and focusing on his task. He took a deep breath, and jumped up. He pushed from the tree, gritting his teeth as he scraped his hand. He pulled himself toward the swing, squeaking as he collided with the rope. His feet soon found themselves slamming down onto the plastic disk, and Ivan tensed his body. He glanced up, staring intently at Alfred. 

Alfred reached up and grabbed the rope, being sure to not let Ivan swing away. He beamed at Ivan, Ivan responding with his own shy smile.

“Good job!” Alfred chuckled, quickly pulling the swing closer to his body. He pressed his hand to Ivan’s back again, eyes twinkling. “Go ahead and get down now.” 

Ivan nodded, shifting and sliding his feet of the disk. Alfred kept him balanced, grinning ear to ear. “Thanks,” Ivan mumbled, his eyes darting from Alfred's face to the ground and then quickly back again.

Alfred nodded, “No problem. Do you think you’ll need to do it again, or are we good to go?”

“I think I’m fine,” Ivan replied quietly. 

“Cool beans. Alright, so the plan is, I swing across, you swing across. You then swing back, I’ll then swing back,” Alfred stated with his usual smile, his hands fidgeting as he almost vibrated with excitement where he stood. 

“Oh, alright,” Ivan said, his nervousness creeping into his tone. He struggled to keep his voice even. Of course Alfred was going to make him go across that whole damned river alone. What a jerk. 

“Yep yeppers,” Alfred snickered. He paused for a moment, quickly reaching into his pocket and checking his phone. He frowned at the screen, sighing in frustration before he shoved it back into his pocket.

“Something wrong?” Ivan asked, hands folded behind his back. He gripped them tightly, ignoring the lingering pain from his newly acquired scrape. 

Alfred shook his head with another disdainful sigh, “No, it’s fine. I’ll tell ya later.”

“Okay,” Ivan whispered, glancing away. Something was clearly amiss, but he ignored the nagging feeling, covering it up with (forced) hatred.

Alfred clapped his hands together, grinning at Ivan excitedly. “Let’s do this!” he laughed, bouncing his way over to his bag, which he quickly scooped up. 

“Wait, why do you need your bag?” Ivan inquired suspiciously, eyes narrowed and tone slightly annoyed.

“Uh, extra weight. A challenge. You don’t have to,” Alfred replied, this time his grin seeming forced. Ivan froze, gulping and shaking his head.

“No thanks,” he squeaked, waving his hands and fighting back the need to wail. Alfred laughed, his grin no longer strained.

“Come on, no more stalling. We’re doing it now,” he chuckled, slinging his back over shoulder and getting into position to mount the swing. He jumped up, and landed on the swing, laughing brightly as he gripped the tree. “Watch and learn!” he cried, his eyes sparkling with joy and excitement as he pushed off. 

Ivan stood in awe, Alfred’s perfect blue eyes alight with glee as he swung, his messy blond hair ruffling in the wind as he swung. It was all so quick, but Ivan couldn’t help but view it in slow motion. His clothes hanging off his body as he swung in his low arc across the river, his absolutely delighted laughter echoing as he went. Ivan’s heart was aflame as he watched, a dopey grin plastered across his face and violet eyes dancing with pure bliss.

And then Alfred jumped off, throwing himself onto the ground on the other side, rolling and shaking with laughter as he came to a stop. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, his laughter fading as he wiped glad tears from his face.

“Your turn!” Alfred shouted to Ivan, his laughter finally drifting away as he sighed. He breathed a deep breath, dropping his bag to the ground and standing. Ivan smiled at him, pretending his earlier emotions were less than half of what they were. 

“Okay!” Ivan called back, his hands cupped to his face to help the sound carry. He shook himself out, grinning to himself. He felt like he was close to putting a name to the strange feeling that made his cheeks flush the way they did. He didn’t know why, but he just knew.

The swing made its way back to Ivan’s side, and he swiftly reached up and grabbed it, flinching as it smacked his palm. He did as Alfred had done and jumped up onto the swing, gripping the tree tightly.

“You can do it!” Alfred yelled, hands to his face and legs set far apart as he beamed at Ivan. Ivan flashed him a quick thumbs and a grin before he quickly went back to tightly gripping the rope. He took another deep breath, sweating profusely and doing one last little shake of his body to hopefully rid himself of any last doubts. 

And he pushed off.

Ivan’s trip through the air was marvelous, and he showed his feelings for this by crying out and laughing loudly as he swung. He’d spun more to face Alfred, and the wind whipped at his eyes, bringing forth tears that would’ve probably made their way to Ivan’s cheeks from laughter without the wind’s help. He caught a glimpse of Alfred, an expression of adoration and elation on his face, clearly meant for him, though Ivan knew it must’ve been his eyes playing tricks on him. 

And suddenly the feeling was given a name. And Ivan’s heart dropped. 

He swung down, and towards Alfred. Alfred didn’t move, though he should’ve. Ivan let go and jumped, barreling into Alfred. They fell to the ground, Ivan quickly rolling off Alfred and squeezing his eyes and fists shut. 

He wanted to cry more than anything.

Alfred laughed loudly, his body shaking and more tears of joy slipping from his eyes. Ivan let out a quiet giggle, but quickly bit his lip and silenced himself. His pried his eyes open, pushing himself up and looking to Alfred. Alfred sat up too, smiling brightly at Ivan. 

“Welp, guess you’ve gotta go again, huh?” he chuckled, wiping his face again. How many times has he done that today? How many times has he done that any other time? Did he really enjoy spending time with Ivan, or was it just this one time? (a one time thing, most likely)

“Yeah,” Ivan whispered. He stood and brushed himself off, grimacing as Alfred stood as well. He marched to the edge of the water, reaching his hand out and waiting for the swing to come back around and hit his hand. It did so quickly, and Ivan stood there, staring at the swing in his grip.

“I’ll actually help you get on this time,” Alfred said approaching and resting his hands on Ivan’s shoulders. It made Ivan’s heart beat faster and his breath catch in his throat, but the majority of him wanted Alfred’s hands away from him (but he couldn’t ignore the rest of him that had him wanting to melt like butter at Alfred’s touch).

“Thanks,” Ivan replied, smiling at Alfred. His smile was tired and strained, his desire to leave the area stronger than ever. But Alfred didn’t suspect a thing. He thought that Ivan just smiled like that sometimes, as Ivan _did_ do it a lot. Especially around Alfred. 

“Sure thing!” Alfred grinned, a chuckle escaping his lips before he gave instructions. “Just hold onto the rope, I’ll handle the rest.”

Ivan raised an eyebrow, but did as told, holding the rope tightly and partially closing his eyes. Alfred suddenly lifted him up with barely any struggle, placing him on the swing and reaching for the rope. Ivan stared down at Alfred in shock, his need to escape momentarily forgotten as he gaped at Alfred’s strength. Alfred winked, making Ivan flush and remember the exact reason as to why he wanted to leave so badly.

And then Alfred pulled the rope back, and let go. Ivan’s second time around was much worse.

A pit formed in his stomach as he swung, and he clutched the rope tightly, pressing his head close. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes, but it wasn’t because of the wind. And suddenly, it was over. Ivan had jumped off. He realized that the second time was much faster than the first. Good.

Ivan rolled on the ground, laying there for a moment before he slowly sat up and wiped his eyes discreetly. He looked to Alfred, his expression passive as Alfred stood still with his backpack on. The swing swung to him, but Alfred didn’t reach for it, instead letting it come back to Ivan, and then continue it’s motions until it stilled.

“Aren’t you coming?” Ivan asked, despite how much he desperately wanted to leave.

Alfred gave an apologetic smile, chuckling guiltily and rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve gotta go, and there’s a shortcut to my house through here so,” he shrugged, “y’know.” 

Ivan didn’t.

His hands clenched and his stood swiftly, brushing himself off and staring intently at Alfred.

“You’re not coming?” he asked, his voice barely loud enough to carry over the rush of water.

“Yeah, sorry,” Alfred sighed.

“Oh.”

“But we can do things tomorrow, promise! Later!” Alfred called. He spun around, and ran into the trees lining the other side of the river. Ivan stood still and stared at where Alfred had stood, his mind blank before his face scrunched up and his vision blurred. He turned, grabbed his bag, and ran.

He ran to the path, making a sharp turn and sprinting down the trail. He whimpered and coughed, slowing down and stopping. He heaved and coughed, throwing his bag to the ground and throwing words into a garbled mess as he struggled to convey how he felt to the air.

And tears welled up in his eyes, pooling and pouring down his cheeks like rivers and raindrops, an ocean of emotion bursting out of him in one huge rush that overwhelmed him in every way. A dam broke, and he couldn’t fix it. He cried out, reaching down and fisting his hands in the fabric at the edge of his sweater, tugging on that one loose thread that he always played with. He yanked it off, throwing it to the ground and stomping on it as he sobbed.

He stopped, his hands still clenched around fabric and his eyes still pouring salty tears, but he quieted himself. 

He’d gotten his answer.

He’d named the feeling. But he’d never thought it’d be this painful. He never thought it’d make him feel this awful, this _stupid_ and _ignorant_. He sniffed and wiped at his face, though his efforts were of course in vain as the tears just kept coming. He couldn’t believe it.

He was in love with Alfred F Jones, perhaps the straightest person he knew. Alfred F Jones, the man who, on several occasions, has beat up kids for calling him gay. Alfred F Jones, the most popular boy in their school, every single girl drooling over him 24/7, and Ivan knew firsthand just how much he loved the attention. 

Alfred F Jones, who called him Vanya. 

But Ivan knew it was teasing. It didn’t mean anything. But he couldn’t help but hope.

And crying and alone in the middle of a path Alfred had lead him down, Ivan couldn’t help but think with a short, bitter laugh that this was a perfect analogy for the situation he found himself in now because of this newly named feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruh this thing was like 7 pages long and I didn't want to reread all of it so sorry of there's any spelling mistakes
> 
> but like I'd say it's p mediocre 
> 
> I'd give it like a 6/10
> 
> that's not the point tho
> 
> the point is as of now, I've almost finished part 5 of jojo and I'm feelin p rad :)
> 
> anyway
> 
> yeehaw


	12. Off Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> reset and Alfred is fucked up cuz of it  
Ivan kinda ghosty? fuck it, ghosty Ivan :)  
uuuuuuh Mattie gay ahahhahahahahahahhahahahahahhahahahahahaha

Alfred doesn’t know when it happened. All he knows is that it happened.

He doesn’t know exactly how to describe it either. It’s not like he ever got the chance, but he likes to try to describe it to himself sometimes. He’d like to better understand what happened to him and everything around him.

He refers to it as the reset.

He figures that it’s probably the best way to describe it, really. He woke up one day, and everything just felt off. Something just felt different. Something small, and it was just so unsettling. He slowly noticed it as he dragged himself from bed and trudged around his room to get ready.

He frowned when he found his phone on the left side of his bed instead of the right, but tried to ignore it. He figured that maybe he just remembered it being on the right, but his memory was just playing tricks on him, but a nagging feeling just kept echoing through his body as he shuffled to the bathroom. 

He brushed his teeth with mint flavored toothpaste, though he was certain he’d bought bubblegum last week. He eyed his shower, staring blankly at his half empty bottle of shampoo. But he’d bought a new one yesterday. A pit formed in his stomach as he scratched at his arm, and he hated it. He hated the dread and worry pooling in his stomach and the cold sweat that broke out on his skin.

He hissed under his breath, scratching more violently at his arm and biting his lip. He looked down, yanking up his sleeve and staring in disbelief at it. On his arm, in strangely neat black marker, was a phone number he thought he once knew and a name that made his body quake. 

Ivan.

Bile stung the back of his throat, and he threw himself at the toilet, yanking up the lid and falling to his knees. His head throbbed in pain as he gagged before vomiting into the toilet. His throat hurt along with his head, and tears stung his eyes. He heaved as he finished expelling what little was in his stomach, recoiling from the toilet and rubbing at his eyes.

Alfred reached a shaky hand up and flushed the toilet, plugging his ears to block out the sound. He sat by the toilet, curled up in a ball and whimpering softly as tears slipped out of his tightly shut eyes. 

Eventually he gathered enough strength to push himself to his feet, fumbling around the corner for the box containing his contacts. He frowned again, this time with watery eyes and a strong surge of that horrible nagging feeling. 

Guess he’d wear his glasses.

He stumbled back into his room, grimacing at the mess it was. Food trash and clothes were scattered about, one of his pillows lay crumpled up beside his bed, the other almost completely buried by his blanket, of course not washed in months. At least this much hadn’t changed.

He wobbled over to his bedside table, snatching up his glasses and shoving them on his face. He hissed at the thought of having to buy new contacts. They were always so expensive.

Plus, he could’ve sworn he’d had plenty just yesterday

He left his room, much quieter than normal, flinching as the sun shone into the hallway through the thin curtains that tried so desperately to cover their window at the end of the hallway. Alfred hummed as he stared at the vague shape of a tree that shifted slightly in the wind. He didn’t know there was a tree by that window. He shrugged it off, clutching his arm and going slowly down the stairs. He didn’t want to fall, after all. He still felt so weak.

He heard Matthew’s bright laughter echoing from the kitchen, and a weak smile made its way onto his face. At least Matthew seemed to be as normal as ever. He slipped into the kitchen, finding Matthew leaning on the kitchen island, phone pressed to his ear and a smile adorning his pale face.

“Oh, quiet you! Alfie just got up, so I’ve gotta go. I’ll talk to ya later, Maxi!” Matthew giggled, quickly ending his phone call. He met Alfred’s eyes, his bright smile falling right after. “Is something wrong? You look awful,” he asked concernedly.

“Who were you talking to?” Alfred replied stiffly. Who was Maxi? Who was Maxi.

Matthew snorted, “Oh, y’know. Just Maximo, my boyfriend. The one I’ve been dating for 2 years.”

“I thought his name was Carlos,” Alfred breathed. He felt like he was going to cry. Were Matthew’s eyes always this purple? Was his skin always so pale?

“What?” Matthew laughed, choking on his breath and covering his mouth as he let out an ugly snort. “That’s his middle name, Alfie. How could you remember his middle name but not his first? What’s up with you today? You look so pale, and really sick. Or like you’re going to cry.”

No. He knew the name of his brother’s boyfriend. It was Carlos, and always had been. His middle name was Maximo. It had to be. This was some sick joke, and they’d somehow made Alfred feel so horrible about it. If it was a prank, then all it should do is just mildly confuse him. But he felt so weak and tired and his throat stung again and he couldn’t stop scratching at his arm and his mouth was dry and here was Matthew.

“Alfie?” Matthew whispered, walking around the island and approaching Alfred quietly. Why did Matthew have to call him that? He hadn’t done that since they were kids. So young and soft and Alfred had a nice friend and everyone teased them about how close they were but it didn’t matter because it wasn’t even like he remembered that chubby little russian boy’s name. It wasn’t even like he was real anymore. 

Alfred felt his stomach knot up as Matthew got closer.

“I threw up when I woke up. I think I’m sick,” he mumbled, his hand tightening around his arm and his other fingers curling into a fist. Matthew nodded solemnly, biting his lip and averting his eyes.

“Well, that’s not good,” Matthew sighed, stating the obvious. He seemed to believe the puking part, but not the sick part. He knew something was off, but Alfred knew more.

Someone was waiting for him in that messy room of his. 

“You should go up to bed and get some rest. I could make you soup, if you’d like,” Matthew offered, his eyes silently pleading. He clearly knew how weak and tired and useless Alfred felt. Maybe he could sense the need to return to his room radiating from Alfred, and he was determined to help Alfred achieve his goal. 

Alfred’s stomach rumbled at the thought of hot, wonderful smelling chicken noodle soup, and he nodded. “Yes,” he whispered, “I’d like that.”

Matthew’s smile was weak and forced. Alfred felt so terrible for making Matthew worry like this, but he had to go. He had to leave now, or he might never be able to drag his feet from this too clean kitchen. Matthew was cleaner than him, but never this clean. But he already knew what the something off was and why this was all so wrong despite the fact that it was his own home, even if it wasn’t the one he was used too.

“I’ll be off,” Alfred said weakly, forcing a smile. 

“Yes, you will. Rest well, I’ll be up with your soup in about twenty or thirty minutes,” Matthew responded, softly. Alfred nodded and left, wobbling up the stairs and stumbling into his room. He reached under his glasses and rubbed at his eyes as he shuffled into his room, then grumbled and removed them to better wipe the crusty gunk from his eyes that’d collected while he slept. He briefly wondered how he’d managed to forget to do this of all things.

Generally he wiped his eyes first thing in the morning. He’d wake up, and wipe at his eyes. Didn’t he wipe his eyes when he’d cried earlier? Oh well, guess he didn’t wipe hard and thoroughly enough. 

He pushed his glasses back onto his face, and froze to the spot. He hadn’t been wrong when he’d thought someone was waiting for him in the mess he called a room.

A very pale many with violet eyes and almost white hair stared at Alfred, who stared silently back. He had chubby thighs, plush arms, his chest just naturally rounder than Alfred’s, his lips were soft and round like his cheeks, both a lovely light pink, just like his big nose. He wore a very violet sweater that ran down to his mid thigh, and a creamy scarf that faded into pure white and then into nothing at all.

Alfred found him absolutely breathtaking, and so painfully familiar and he wanted nothing more than to hold this man in his arms and just smell his soft hair and nuzzle his soft skin for hours and hours.

And yet he knew he wasn’t truly there. 

Everywhere his pale skin glistening in light that wasn’t even pouring through Alfred’s windows was very slightly transparent, and Alfred could stare at his navy blue blanket, tinted heavy with white from the man’s skin. The scarf fading into nothing was another clue, plus, no real person would ever need to wear a scarf that ridiculously long, with its tails winding down and pooling on the bed sheets before falling off the bed and fading into their beautiful nothingness.

Alfred’s angel wasn’t even real. At least, not anymore.

The man smiled, and it hurt his heart and his head and his eyes to see those beautifully white teeth sparkling in a so painfully familiar smile that he just couldn’t recognize.

“Hello Fedya,” the angel purred, and Alfred felt tears brim. He desperately blinked them away, but he knew he wouldn’t last too long. The man let out a soft and breathy chuckle, his pink lips pressing together in a lovely smile that was just as wonderful, if not better, than the last. He patted the space beside him and his lovely lips parted, “Come. Sit with me.”

Alfred did so without question. 

“Give me your arm,” the man whispered, putting out his pale hands with his long fingers that weren’t chubby but just a bit plush. They looked so nice to hold. Alfred wondered briefly about the faint accent that made the man’s voice so smooth and silky, made Alfred want to melt and cry and never even exist ever again all at once. 

Alfred offered his arm, the one with the number and the name, and the angel of a man took it with saddened eyes. He pushed up the sleeve of Alfred’s worn shirt, so simple and blue and Alfred suddenly hated that it was in the way. Those pale fingers traced the numbers and the every so slightly curly letters of the name, his smile so sad and his eyes so watery.

“I remember that you got a new phone and didn’t transfer all the numbers you had on the last one. And I remember, for some reason, you never memorized my number like I did yours, so I had to write it down for you. You insisted that I write it on your arm, so you wouldn’t forget it. You said you’d try to memorize it this time. You promised,” the angel whimpered, and he suddenly dropped his head down onto Alfred’s arm. 

Alfred frowned as the man’s body shook slightly and wet dripped down onto his arm. He didn’t want this angel to be sad. Alfred reached a hand up for the pale, so soft looking hair and hummed as he ran his fingers through it. 

They sat like this for a minute or two, and then the angel brought his redden face up, looking to Alfred with puffy eyes and his plump lips twisted into a somehow incredibly soft frown.

“You remember that, right Fedya? You remember me, right?” he asked, his body shaking as much as his lips and his voice and his irises as they struggled to focus.

What a silly question.

Of course he did.

Of course he remembered his Ivan. His lovely russian boy with the soft hair and the pale skin and those striking violet eyes that Alfred found himself so easily lost in. He remembered when they’d met as kids and how close they’d been how annoying Ivan’s sisters were and how silly Matthew had been and how long he’d gossiped about it with his friends. He remembered their first kiss and their first date and the second and the third and their first time and how Ivan moaned so beautifully and perfectly and it was almost like Ivan was his everything and his only thing and nothing else existed ever in a past world. 

He remembered Ivan, of course he did.

But why wasn’t his Ivan really here with him now, warm and held tight in arms that Ivan would always refuse to admit were stronger than his own.

“Yes,” Alfred whispered, “Always, always. I remember you and everything about you and everything about us. You’re just as perfect and beautiful as always, just like you always were, I know it. Just like you’ll always be.”

Ivan smiled at him through fresh tears, moving closer and burying his face in Alfred’s chest. An angel’s soft hair and skin so pale like marble or ceramic or porcelain, but it really doesn’t matter because it’s just Ivan in his sweater and his scarf and his own beautiful body with his own beautiful eyes and those lips and his voice and Alfred can’t help but miss him already because he doesn’t even exist anymore.

“What happened to us?” Alfred whimpered, pressing his nose deep into Ivan’s hair and inhaling what Ivan must’ve smelled like once upon a lovely time.

“Something terrible, I imagine. Something so terribly, terribly awful that our memories were wiped just to spare our hearts, and something scary and powerful placed us in a new universe except they forgot to include space for me,” Ivan replied, his soft voice muffled by Alfred’s chest. His hands gripped at Alfred’s upper arms, and he began sobbing weakly into Alfred’s shirt. 

Alfred hummed in response, staring blankly at the dark blue of the wall across the room. A poster moved in the corner of his eye, a trick of the dim light that made Alfred’s all of a sudden permanent frown deepen. 

“Rest,” he mumbled, “I need rest. We should rest.” Ivan whimpered and hiccuped, nodding and pressing closer and closer to Alfred. 

Alfred slowly laid them down on his bed, holding Ivan tight to his body and Ivan holding tight to him. He forgot about his glasses still being on and just closed his eyes, nuzzling Ivan's hair and gripping his soft body tighter. Ivan whined and let his body shake with one more sob before he forced his breathing to slow. 

Alfred fell asleep not long after.

00oo00oo00

Alfred called them off days. Days when Ivan would show up and drift around and talk to him and wrap his soft arms around Alfred’s neck and press kisses to his cheek.

The title that he gave them implied bad things, but off days were his favorite days. They always just started out bad, with a splitting headache and the need to vomit out anything at all in his stomach, an unending itch on his arm where Ivan’s number reappeared until Ivan finally showed himself and he wouldn’t have to pull his hand away with flakes of dried blood under his nails. But he’d learned to live with it, for Ivan.

Ivan, the light of his life, even now in this ghostly form where no one but the one he loved most could see him. Ivan with his soft eyes and hair and skin and lips and how much he longed to be real again and how much he wished how could exist for maybe just one more day. 

But they both knew it wouldn’t never happen. But at least one day they could exist in the same way with the same cool skin that wasn’t really there and the same transparent body that no one should truly be able to feel, but Alfred broke any rule he could to get to close to Ivan.

He got as close as he could to something that didn’t even exist.

His Ivan.

And today was just a lovely, so very often off day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahhahahahah wtf is up with Maximo/Carlos? I have no fucking clue  
He's prolly got a set middle name, but I do not care  
I don't wanna look it up, too much work  
It worked for this and if I can create a universe where Alfred is like 15 years older than Ivan and also a pedophile then I can create a universe where Cuba's middle name is either Maximo or Carlos and not even god can stop me  
I am very tired and this is only slightly based off the ending of part 6 of jojo but I felt like I should mention it despite the fact that these two things are very different :)))))  
yall I just spent like 2 hours writing this and at them time of posting it is like 1:35am ahhahahahhaahahaaaha  
anyway  
yeehaw


	13. Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the gorls

Madeline walked over to her twin, waving goodbye to her new friend. She flashed Amelia a grin and slid into the seat beside her, propping her head up with her hands. Her grin widened as Amelia ignored her, eyes glued to the new student, Madeline’s friend.

“Who’s the new girl?” Amelia muttered, still not even glancing at her sister. Madeline chuckled, turning his attention to Anya, said new girl. “Also, who are those guys hanging around her?” Madeline rolled her eyes.

“Calm down, A. Those are just her brothers. Anyway, her name’s Anya, she’s a sweetheart, really nice girl, y’know?” she said, glancing at her sister’s dopey, entranced expression. Amelia nodded, slumping forward onto the table and pushing her lunch tray to the side. Madeline dropped her lunchbox onto the table, unzipping it and pulling out a granola bar. She stared at Amelia’s lazy grin, starting to get annoyed. “Okay A, this was funny at first, but if like, you’re just gonna eye Anya all lunch I’m going to go sit with Mariposa,” Madeline grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest as she scowled at her sister. 

“Nooooooo!” Amelia cried, immediately turning her attention to her sister at the mention of her girlfriend. “You know we don’t get along! I’d have to sit alone! Maddie! Dooooon’t!” she wailed, throwing her arms around Madeline’s shoulders. 

Madeline laughed, “Alright, alright, I’ll stay.”

“Yaaaaayyyy,” Amelia whispered, pulling her arms back and waving her hands back in forth in tiny motions. Madeline snorted, taking another bite of her granola bar.

“Let me guess, you’re just going to ask me questions about Anya the whole time?” 

“I just, I just wanna know things about her like, like I want to go up to her and surprise her with my knowledge on the things she likes, y’know? Hey, is she gay? That’s also important, like, y’know, cuz if she’s not then…. It’ll be weird.”

Madeline laughed, a broad smile plastered across her face as Amelia flushed. “Yes, A. She is in fact gay. Also, what if she’s not your type? You’ve never even talked to her. You literally just saw her for the first time like two minutes ago,” she pointed out, reaching into her lunchbox to pull out the rest of her lunch. 

Amelia scowled, “She is most definitely my type. Pretty, sweet, curvy. I’ll learn the other upsides as I get to know her, that’s how this stuff will work. Hold on though, am I her type? Oh tell me, tell me!” Amelia squealed, now bouncing up and down in her seat while leaning closer to her twin. Madeline rolled her eyes.

“Why would I already know her type? I met her today too, y’know. She is a new student. Besides, I doubt it, she’s worth ten of you,” Madeline deadpanned, pulling her turkey sandwich from its plastic bag. A small frown found its way onto her face at her sandwich’s appearance, the bread being smushed from getting hit (by Amelia) earlier. 

Amelia pouted, “Oh come on, you don't really think that, do you?”

“I do,” Madeline snorted.

Amelia crossed her arms and turned away, finally deciding to give her lunch some attention. She pulled her tray closer, grabbing her chocolate milk and beginning to shake it while staring at Anya. 

“Oh, she’s just so pretty,” Amelia sighed, tearing open the milk carton. Madeline chuckled, chewing her sandwich while watching her sister. 

“You know, I could put in a good word for you,” Madeline muttered, grabbing her juice box and tearing off the straw.

“Really?!” Amelia cried, once more throwing herself at Madeline, milk forgotten.

“Yes, but you’d have to do something for me.”

Amelia deflated, “Really? Can’t you have some mercy and just support your loyal and beautiful sister? For once?” 

“Never,” Madeline cackled.

Amelia pouted again as she began to eat her lunch. Today’s lunch was a meatball sub with crinkle cut fries, an odd combination, but it would be enjoyed nonetheless. She tore into her sub, glancing to her newfound crush every now and then with an impossibly loving gaze. 

“Dude, how can you already be so in love with her?” Madeline asked, finishing off her sandwich. Amelia sighed, swallowing the last of her sub and wiping her mouth. She stuffed a fry into her mouth before speaking.

“Honestly, I’m not completely sure either. I’m just kinda drawn to her I guess. Also, she swung her hips in a tantalizing manner in my general direction, which was kinda hot.”

“That’s called walking,” Madeline grinned, sipping from her juice box.

“Shut it,” Amelia growled, grabbing a handful of fries and practically swallowing them whole. She continued to stuff her face with fries as Madeline looked on in amazement, never tiring of her sister’s talent of eating incredibly fast. Madeline sighed, squeezing the life out of her juice box. 

Madeline eventually tired of watching Amelia, and turned her gaze to Anya sitting happily with her brothers and a few other newfound friends. Really, she couldn’t blame Amelia for falling for her almost instantly. Anya had lovely hair, so pale and silky and long, and it went wonderfully with her porcelain skin. Her lips were full and pink, just like her cheeks, and she had stunning violet eyes.

Anya was downright gorgeous, but really she just wasn’t Madeline’s type. She had a girlfriend, plus, Amelia did enough drooling and staring and blubbering about Anya for the both of them. 

The sisters chatted about nothing as they finished their lunch, Amelia of course finishing first. As Madeline slowly finished off her sandwich, she began casting Anya quick glances again. Amelia raised a brow, resting her head in her hands with her elbows propped up on the table.

“Hey Maddie, don’t tell me you’re falling in love with her too,” she teased, “there isn’t enough of her for the both of us!” Madeline’s face burned bright red as she scowled at Amelia, grumbling under her breath and crossing her arms.

“Of course not, I have a girlfriend. You know Anya isn’t my type. Plus, you’re in love with her already, I know my boundaries. I was just thinking that I could go over there and talk to her about something real quick. It’ll just take a second, so don’t worry about it,” Madeline replied curtly, her frown softening as she popped the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth.

Amelia shrugged it off as Madeline stood up, lunchbox in hand, and scurried over to where Anya sat. She stared intently as Madeline talked excitedly about something with Anya, and Anya’s face flushed pink more than once. Amelia watched that one exceptionally gay polish girl lose her mind over something Madeline said, then she snickered as the blonde gripped her (girl)friend’s arm and pointed animatedly at Anya, then, strangely, Amelia. 

Madeline smiled and nodded, also pointing to Amelia, though much more discreet and calm. Anya looked so innocent and pure and absolutely angelic as she slowly turned her head over in Amelia’s direction, pale brows knitted together and her pretty lips forming a confused pout. 

Amelia’s face burned bright red as she immediately turned away, embarrassed to be caught staring. She was certain she’d seen a brighter blush coat Anya’s cheeks before she turned away, and it set her heart pitter pattering faster than she thought it ever had. Her hands clenched into fists as she stared, mortified, at the table. Anya, perhaps the most beautiful girl Amelia had ever laid eyes upon, had just caught her staring.

She was ripped from her thoughts when soft and somehow shy footsteps approached her. Amelia looked up, eyes wide and curious, expecting it to be Madeline returning from whatever horribly embarrassing chat she’d had with Anya. She’d pointed to Amelia, so obviously they were gossiping about her. Bad things, most likely. Just like Madeline to go off and try her best to ruin her chances at getting a girl. Or was that Alice’s thing?

Of course, she was wrong, because there stood a red faced and very shy looking Anya, softer and quieter than ever, beautiful hair falling elegantly around her face and violet eyes sparkling. Anya bit her lip and averted her eyes.

Oh, she was so pretty.

“Um, hello. You’re Amelia, right? Madeline has told me about you, she says we might be, uh, compatible?” Anya whispered, her hands tangling with the tails of her scarf as he then buried her face in it. Shy eyes looked up to meet Amelia’s and her heart nearly stopped.

Compatible?

Oh, and what a lovely voice, a russian accent heavy in her words that poured silkily from her lips like honey. Amelia thought she could smell Anya, a fresh and flowery scent so absolutely like a dream that Amelia was practically convinced this was one.

“Well, I’m not one to really criticize Madeline’s judgement. She really does know best,” Amelia shot back, a bright smile on her face. She appeared fine, with maybe a dusting of pink on her cheeks, but she was internally panicking. All hell broke loose in her head as Anya flashed her a shy smile, soft lips curling upwards into one of the most captivating things Amelia had ever seen. 

“May I sit here?” Anya muttered, pointing next to Amelia. Amelia nodded eagerly, eyes sparkling with excitement as Anya sat down beside her, still averting her eyes. Amelia couldn’t get enough of that soft, smooth voice with that russian accent that she just wanted to be purring praises in her ears. 

Anya shifted in her seat, finally glancing up to meet Amelia’s gaze again. She felt relief flood her body to have those lovely violet eyes on her’s again. They’d barely even talked, and yet somehow Amelia was already addicted to her.

“I like your hair,” said Anya shyly, and Amelia didn’t think she could smile wider. It wasn’t the best way to start off this conversation (or their eventual relationship that Amelia was sure of) but it was a start at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the gorls  
gosh diddly darn I love them so much  
Anya is so precious and so is Madeline, Amelia is good but she's not my favorite  
surprise tho! none of them are my favorite :)  
my favorite is nyo germany because oh my god she is literally perfect in every way she has zero flaws please marry meeeeeeeeeee  
anyway  
yeehaw


	14. A Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hehonk  
i have this titled as whore in my google doc so....  
I'm going with that  
whore

Tears poured from his eyes like rivers running down his cheeks, falling and dripping down from his chin to the pavement beneath his heeled boots. Ivan sniffled, his arms and legs quaking as something began to drip down his inner thigh. He didn’t want to think about it, but it was hard to ignore in the cold night air. It was cooling now, making him shiver and shake even more than he was already. He tried his best to wipe away his tears as he clutched the crumpled bills in his hands tightly. His bag swayed gently in the wind at his side, the jingling of the zipper bringing him back to earth. Ivan perked up at the sound of a car driving up, his head shooting up and his eyes darting around in desperate search. There it was. The same old black pickup truck that drove up every night. His ride.

The driver’s tinted window rolled down, revealing messy blond hair with one rebellious tuft sticking up by itself, and cold blue eyes hidden behind the lenses of his glasses. Alfred nodded his head, eyes roving up and down Ivan’s body before he spoke.

“Get in,” Alfred said, voice cold but with a hidden fondness and warmth. It always confused Ivan, so he did his best to ignore it. But he wasn’t very good at ignoring the obvious. Ivan walked around to the other side of the car, tugging on the door’s handle and letting it swing open. He climbed up, standing on the edge of the car’s doorway. He hesitated, not wanting to stain Alfred’s car with the cold liquid on his thighs. Alfred seemed to understand and pointed to a cup holder stuffed full of wrinkled and ripped napkins of different colors and shades from all different places, ranging from McDonald’s to Subway. 

“Napkins,” Alfred stated, simply. Ivan nodded gratefully as he reached for them, noticing how some were already used. He grabbed a couple, making sure to pick unused ones, and began to clean himself up. It was difficult to do while balancing on the edge like he was, but he managed. He didn’t want to move for fear of making the wrong decision and upsetting Alfred. When he finished wiping his thighs he slid into the passenger seat, almost purring at the comfort the heated seat brought him. Ivan reached over and pulled the door shut, clutching his dirtied napkins in his left hand, rubbing his arm with the other. Alfred began driving.

Alfred examined his appearance once again, nose wrinkled in what must have been disgust. “You can put your napkins back,” Alfred hummed, turning his attention to driving again. Ivan shifted in his seat, uncertain of what to do.

“Are you sure? I did use them,” Ivan mumbled, hugging himself close in an attempt to warm up faster. He was so goddamn cold.

Alfred snorted, “Yeah, I know. I watched you use them.” Ivan flinched, pausing for a moment before gingerly dropping his napkins into the cup holder. Alfred nodded, watching Ivan shiver out of the corner of his eye. He turned up the heat, his lips quirking into a smirk at Ivan’s pleased sigh. “Maybe you should wear warmer clothes,” Alfred suggested, knowing full well why Ivan couldn’t.

Ivan knew there was no reason to respond, but he did anyway. “Can’t,” he sighed, smoothing out his bills as best he could with just his hands. Alfred nodded again, tapping his fingers in no particular rhythm on the steering wheel as he drove. He gestured into the backseat, not taking his eyes off the road for a second.

“I’ve got a hoodie or two back there, if you wanna wear one,” he suggested calmly, his voice passive as Ivan’s eyes widened. Ivan nodded slowly, his movements ranging from short and jerky to drawn out and calculated as he crawled around in his seat, stretching over the center console in between the seats to grab one of Alfred’s hoodies. Alfred glanced away from the road for a moment, staring at Ivan’s backside, inspecting the hand shaped bruises pressed into his thighs, as well as the bite marks embedded in his pale skin. Alfred narrowed his eyes, his lips pressed into a thin line as Ivan pulled back and righted himself in his seat.

Ivan smiled at Alfred as he gripped an old hoodie, dark gray in color with white stripes wrapping around each of the upper sleeves, as well as white drawstrings. Alfred grinned, watching Ivan pull the hoodie on out of the corner of his eyes, finding it difficult to keep his eyes on the road. Ivan tugged the hood down, smiling as he stared down at the sleeves which covered his hands. He quickly reached over for his bag, unzipping it and pulling out a long cream colored scarf, as well as stuffing his newly acquired money into the bag. Ivan wrapped it gently around his neck, tender smile curving his lips upwards. Alfred followed his every motion with his eyes, his smile softening at the sight of Ivan in his too big hoodie and his soft scarf snuggled nicely around his neck.

The sweatshirt was big enough to cover Ivan’s rather revealing shorts. The sight of Ivan’s pale skin seeming brighter against the dark colors of both the hoodie and the interior of Alfred’s car sent shivers of delight down Alfred’s spine. Ivan tapped his sloppily laced boots on the truck’s floor, humming quietly to himself as he leaned back in his seat. Ivan rubbed his exposed legs slowly, curling in on himself slightly as the car warmed up. 

“Rough day, huh?” Alfred asked, keeping his eyes on the road for once. Ivan jerked his head to the side, eyes wide. He stiffened, glancing away as his face flushed from embarrassment and anger.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ivan hissed, hands clenched. 

“You’ve got bruises again,” Alfred replied, eyes flicking from Ivan, then back to the road again.

Ivan stared down at his legs with a blank expression, his eyes cold and empty as he processed Alfred’s words. “I guess I do,” Ivan whispered. The car fell silent then, the only sound the quiet humming of the car’s engine as they sped down the road. 

“You should set some boundaries for those customers of yours,” Alfred said, a mocking and judgmental tone creeping into his voice. Ivan stiffened again, taking a deep breath and shaking as he exhaled again.

“I doubt it would work,” Ivan muttered quietly as he tugged his scarf up to cover more of his face.

Alfred smirked, “You won’t know til ya try it.” Ivan was silent in response, his eyes glued to the dark night outside his window. Alfred once more took his eyes from the road, staring intently at Ivan’s figure. 

Ivan was steadily growing more and more uncomfortable with this situation, not like it was very comfortable to begin with, but Alfred’s prying eyes were making his hands sweat and his eyes water. He sniffed, discreetly wiping his hands on the sweatshirt. 

Alfred kept his eyes glued to Ivan. He was lucky that the road was so empty. His cool blue eyes drove their steely gaze into Ivan’s skin, searching his body and clothes and his expression. What for, Ivan couldn’t know.

It was unnerving, really. The way Alfred kept his hand firmly on the wheel and drove without a problem, even with his eyes never leaving his petrified passenger. Ivan just couldn’t take it anymore. His nails dug into the soft flesh on his thighs, his eyes burned with tears that he felt had no real reason to fall, but they were still fighting for a way out. He bit at his lips, keeping his head low and studying the world outside.

At this point they’d reached a long stretch of road, wide, empty fields where crops usually grew on either side, the occasional tree or bunch of bushes dotting the edges of the pavement. He couldn’t see them, but knew that far in the distance dull lights shined in a place you could barely even consider a city.

This long ride was the price Ivan had to pay to keep his job a secret from his sisters. At least the town he traveled to wasn’t too far away, but the drive was a solid forty minutes. Enough time for Ivan to process what he’d done this night, or the next, or the next. Every night until he could finally stop doing this.

Ivan grimaced, quickly pulling himself from that train of thought. He figured it’d be better if he just pretended that his job didn’t exist. At least, for now.

So he cleared his head, staring out the window with eyes unseeing.

Minutes passed in silence, the breathing coming from both individuals making barely a sound. Quiet enough to be considered silence, Ivan thought. As long as there wasn’t too much talking. He fidgeted in his seat, a nagging feeling of still being watched making a pit of dread form in his stomach. _Surely_ Alfred had better things to do than stare at Ivan. _Surely_ he would consider driving to be of the top priority. Ivan wasn’t even that interesting.

But still, the feeling remained, and Ivan just wanted to check. He just wanted confirmation. So, he gathered every last drop of courage in his shaky body, and shot the car’s driver a quick glance.

Alfred was still watching him.

Ivan’s blood ran cold as his eyes locked with Alfred’s, blue eyes boring into his own. A sea of static emotion, ice cold waves slashing at exposed skin and dragging you deep into the depths of this maniac’s mind.

Alfred smiled.

“Quit staring at me, dammit! Shouldn’t you be driving, you freak?!” Ivan snapped, his body curling in on itself and pushing right against the car’s door. Alfred’s smile widened. The car began to slow, Alfred’s hand on the wheel turning to the side and veering the car off to rest on the side of the road, the heater still buzzing loudly in Ivan’s ears. 

They sat in silence again, Alfred’s ocean eyes drowning Ivan and Ivan’s pale skin making Alfred itch with need. 

Alfred spoke after what felt like forever, and it served no relief whatsoever. His seemingly chapped lips parted, making way for sickly sweet words that made Ivan’s skin crawl.

“You’re new to this sort of stuff, aren’t you? This sort of work? These sort of drives?” asked Alfred, one hand reaching slowly down to unbuckle his seat belt. 

Ivan felt no need to respond, not having any energy or bravery left in his system. It wasn’t like Alfred would’ve even acknowledged it anyway. He already knew the answer.

Alfred continued: “I’ll give you a little bit of advice, might help you keep that pretty little head of yours screwed right up on those shoulders, right where it should be—” he paused here, reaching his other hand up to tap Ivan’s plump cheek, causing a violent shiver, "—You should always listen to your driver. Never talk to your driver in a way that could even in the slightest way be deemed disrespectful, unless you don’t wanna get home. Your driver practically owns you. I could kill you right here, if I wanted.” 

Ivan’s body locked up, his eyes going wide with fear. Alfred grinned a lazy grin, his eyes hazy with some sort of sick pleasure that arose from seeing Ivan in such a terrified state. He leaned towards Ivan, the hand that’d tapped his cheek instead going for petting the soft skin there.

“Don’t worry, dearest. I’d never do anything to hurt an angel like you. Absolutely precious,” Alfred purred, leaning closer and closer. Ivan desperately wanted to lean back, but knew he couldn’t as he felt the ledge for the window’s controls and the door handle press into his back. His eyes darted to the side, then quickly back to Alfred who was closer than ever. Ivan could smell a faint whiff of alcohol on his breath, but it was so weak he knew it could barely be contributing to this action. Just adding slightly to the many dangers he faced currently. 

“Oh, Ivan. My precious, darling Ivan. You’re mine, right?” Alfred whispered, his voice still so clear in Ivan’s ears. Ivan nodded in response, terrified of what Alfred’s reaction might be if he told the truth. Alfred hummed his approval, letting his hand trail down Ivan cheek to slip under his scarf and pull it away. Ivan flinched at the action, earning a curious glance from Alfred.

“Yes, of course you’re mine,” Alfred sighed, now choosing to ignore Ivan’s reflexive reaction. Ivan wondered where all this “you’re mine” stuff had come from, but he chalked it up to Alfred just being absolutely insane. It seemed pretty likely. He was yanked from his thoughts as a hand rubbed his inner thigh, the other now rubbing at some marks on his neck.

“You love me, don’t you? In fact, I bet you just found some makeup and made these marks on your body so I’d be jealous. Is that what you did, Ivan? Is it, my sweet Vanya?” he murmured. Ivan shook as Alfred rubbed harder on the bruises that were pressed into his skin. He whimpered as Alfred frowned down at the marks, his rubbing not changing them even a bit. “I guess they are real,” he pouted, “Maybe I’ll have to pay a visit to that kind man who hired you tonight, hm?” Ivan didn’t respond.

Alfred heaved a sigh, pushing himself all the way onto Ivan and burying his face in Ivan’s neck. Ivan froze where he sat, his eyes once more watering with tears that fought so desperately to be let free. Ivan ignored the burning feeling of a flood just waiting to happen and instead tried to focus on how to deal with this situation. 

“I wish you’d just stop this silly little job of yours. Why don’t you come and live with me? My house is big enough for all of us, including your sisters,” Alfred grumbled as he nuzzled Ivan’s neck. Ivan’s heart dropped, shock making his body going even more rigid than ever before. 

He’d never told Alfred about his sisters.

“You know, I bet they’d like it at my house. It’s more of a mansion, really. It’s big is what I’m trying to say. Large. Larger the average. Plenty room,” Alfred continued, mumbling about the size of the house and how many rooms it had and how much money he had, but Ivan was no longer listening. 

Somehow, Alfred knows about his sisters. Ivan’s sweet, lovely sisters who were so clueless about Ivan’s temporary job and the dangers he faced daily. But nothing he’d ever experienced during this job scared him as much as right now, this striking man and his calloused hands whispering promises of a better life and pressing closer and closer. 

Ivan wanted to scream.

“How do you know about my sisters,” Ivan said blankly. Alfred brought his face away from Ivan’s neck, locking eyes with Ivan again. Another lazy smile crossed his face, and Ivan just knew that this man wasn’t sane. Not in the slightest.

“Did I mention them? Oops, guess I shouldn’t have let that slip,” he giggled, his hands gripping Ivan’s hips. He was halfway over the console in between the seats, in a position that looked horrible uncomfortable, but he really didn’t seem to mind. He continued, “I guess I should tell you the truth then: I’ve been watching you. For a long, long time. The first time I saw you I fell in love. So I followed you, and protected you. And I’ve always been trying to help, and I’ve kept some of your things, and, sometimes, when you go to deal with those clients of yours, I watch. If I’m feeling it, I’ll record it. I take pictures of you all the time, I have so many of you looking absolutely angelic with that pretty hair of yours all limp on your pillow while you sleep. You’re so pretty. My flower.”

He finished with a sigh, his hands trailing up Ivan’s sides, rubbing at his chest before coming up to wrap around Ivan’s neck. Ivan stayed stock still, the pure shock and terror evident on his features. Alfred smiled that same sweet smile again.

“You’re just so perfect. I could barely handle letting those horrible mutts of men lay their hands on you, but I didn’t want to come on too strong too early. So I promised myself I’d take care of them later. And I did. Oh, how I did. You should’ve heard them screamed,” Alfred cooed, his fingers tapping Ivan’s skin, running gentling up the hair on the back of his neck. 

Ivan’s world seemed blurry, Alfred’s grip on his throat tightening and loosening over and over again in an almost playful way. Alfred’s delirious laugh echoed in his ears, a sound he found himself hating with all of his being. 

“I tried so hard to play it cool. To not let you know how I felt. I pained me to pretend I didn’t want to be with you all the time, to be as cold as I was. But now you know, and now I don’t have to hide. Though, I admit, I will be missing all those times I would get to mess with you and see your reactions. Like the napkin thing earlier. So cute,” he purred, “so cute.”

Ivan felt like he was drowning. Drowning in Alfred’s blue eyes and in these horrible feelings, so possessive and strong and toxic, all poured from Alfred’s lips into Ivan’s ears like magma, a burning feeling in his chest and his eyes and his throat, bile, tears, and something else. His head struggled to comprehend Alfred’s words.

He’d been watching Ivan. He wanted Ivan. He seemed very certain that he’d have Ivan.

And Ivan had no doubts that he would.

This man was a killer, clearly out of his mind. And his fingers were currently wrapped around Ivan’s neck, still squeezing gently every now and then as a silent warning of what a refusal of his feelings might bring. Alfred had Ivan right where he wanted him. 

And so Ivan complied, fear making his hands shake and his lungs burn even though Alfred grip was loosening again.

“Okay,” he whispered with a hoarse voice. It felt like forever since he’d last talked, when in reality it'd only been maybe ten minutes. Alfred grinned from ear to ear, his hands dropping to wrap around Ivan’s middle. 

Ivan heaved a sigh of relief, having hated the feeling of Alfred's hands on his throat more than anything. At least anything this confused and terrified brain could comprehend. Everything was all too much, too much information to process, too many touches making his skin prickle. His brain was a computer currently malfunctioning, too many things to process. Too much to handle. 

And so, as Alfred leaned in and pressed kisses to his lip, his skin, his hair, Ivan stayed still and said nothing, his eyes glued shut. Alfred pressed light kisses to his eyelids, then he pulled away and smiled at Ivan’s blank face. 

Ivan slowly opened his eyes, this time not even trying to stop the tears that quickly fell after. Alfred’s smile widened and a chuckle escaped his lips. He reached his hands up to brush away Ivan’s tears with a satisfied hum.

“There’s no need to cry, dear. I know this must be so much for you, but there’s no need to worry. You and your sisters will come live with me. We can be happy darling. Promise,” Alfred muttered sweetly, his eyes still hazy with pure joy as Ivan silently nodded. He didn’t dare object.

Alfred’s smile transformed into a terrifying grin, the emotion in his eyes displaying hunger and need and want, _want, **want**._ He unbuckled Ivan, then patted his own lap. Ivan quickly got the message and climbed into Alfred’s lap, more tears slipping down his cheeks. Alfred hummed and kissed away Ivan’s tears, desperate for Ivan to be happy. He must’ve known that wouldn’t work, but Alfred was nothing short of determined. 

“I need to get home. My sisters,” Ivan weakly objected as Alfred began kissing his neck.

“They can wait, yes? I’m sure they can,” Alfred replied coolly, his hands gripping tightly at Ivan’s hips. Ivan stayed silent again, draping his arms around Alfred’s neck in an attempt to better satisfy him. Alfred’s eyes spark with something unnameable, his hands now rubbing and slipping fingers under the hem of Ivan’s shorts. Ivan shivered at the feeling of Alfred lips parting against his neck as he spoke;

“They can wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk how tf to use a colon but I didn't wanna just end the fucking sentence and plop that last bit of dialogue on the end, so I just used it  
I tried to look up the proper use of a colon but I retained 0% of the information and gathered that I really don't have enough energy to actually look for the correct use  
I hope it doesn't really matter that much  
but whatever  
I started this like 6 months ago and I'm just now finishing it hahahahaah  
fool :(((((  
doesn't really matter tho, as long as I finish it and I'm proud of it  
I'm not necessarily proud of this one, because of the content (god, do I love making Ivan suffer), but I am rather happy with the outcome  
I guess you could consider this yandere Alfred, which is in part inspired by my new obsession with yandere Jotaro (hah, jojo, you wouldn't get it (but you might)), but I think I probably would've come up with something similar to this without the inspiration I got from yandere Jotaro fics  
anyway  
yeehaw


	15. Rollerblades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lowkey fucking bad garbage bullshit that I still kinda like for some reason

Alfred tapped his foot to the beat of the music that played in his ears. His eyes stayed trained to the passing trees outside his window. Slowly, he began tapping a finger in time with his foot, humming along to his music. He allowed a faint smile to cross his face.

His smile was immediately wiped away as the backpack of the kid beside him slammed into his side. He yanked his earbuds from his ears, scowling, fury churning in his eyes. The kid beside him (Jaden, he believed his name was) looked at him with wide eyes.

“Do you mind?” Alfred hissed, earbuds held tight in his hand. Jaden looked away and fidgeted with his hands, sliding his fingers into the sleeve of the opposite arm.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to. Forgot you were there. I won’t do it again,” he muttered. He reached for his backpack, still pressed against Alfred’s arm, and pulled it back to him. He dropped it onto the floor of the bus. He quickly turned away after casting Alfred one last nervous glance.

Alfred huffed, sitting back against the bus seat. He shoved his earbuds back into his ears. He pressed his forehead against the glass of the window, turning his music up to drown out the shouting of the rowdy kids on his bus. To be honest, he kind of hated all of them.

After sitting quietly for a few moments, Alfred noticed the feeling of being watched. He shifted where he sat, leaning forward and pressing the top of his head to the seat in front of him, only there for show since he sat right behind the bus driver. It served to separate the students and their driver, and Alfred sort of hated that too. It just seemed like a little much, but he could understand why they put it there. Alfred looked to the seat across from him, his blue eyes locking with jaw dropping violet. Of course, he kept his mouth closed, but his eyes widened at the surprising color. The boy across from him quickly looked away, face flushed red, and stared out the window. 

Alfred bit his lip, narrowing his eyes and sitting back in his seat. He kept his eyes on the boy a few more seconds before he finally went back to watching the trees and houses pass by his window. 

He wondered to himself who the boy might be. Of course he knew about him, they did live in the same neighborhood, but he never really had any real interactions with him. He’d seen the pale boy drawing pictures on the window when it rained, but that was it. Alfred thought he’d heard someone say his name before, but he wasn’t entirely sure.

He thought it might be Ivan. Alfred decided to go with that. It seemed fitting for the boy. He knew that he moved here at the end of last year, and that his mother had married the man that lived in a house up the street. He also knew that he was in 9th grade, while Alfred was in 10th. He seemed nice enough, but what Alfred wanted to know was why he was staring at him.

He thought about it for the rest of the bus ride, but forgot about it soon after arriving home. Though, he did watch Ivan skip up to his stepfather, watched his stepfather ruffle his pale hair and watched Ivan’s pale cheeks flush red as he laughed.

00oo00oo00

**2 days pass**

00oo00oo00

“Do you know anything about that pale boy up the street?” Alfred asked his brothers casually as he sipped a soda. Matthew, his twin, raised his brows as he watched the water on the stow slowly boil. Arthur, his older brother, snorted and dropped his head onto the counter.

“Interested in freshman boys now? I thought it was supposed to be freshman girls,” Arthur teased, bringing his head back up and poking Alfred’s arm. Alfred rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“No, it’s just that I caught him staring at me on the bus the other day and I was wondering about him, that’s all,” Alfred replied with a sigh. “Do you know anything, Mattie?” 

“Nah, man, I’m just trying to get my hotdog water to a boil. I don’t know anything and I don’t plan too either,” Matthew said with a shake of his head. 

“I respect that. Forget I said anything,” Alfred responded, taking another sip of his soda.

“Well, I know he’s Russian. That’s it,” Arthur said. He combed his fingers through his messy hair and cast Alfred a cast filled with an emotion that Alfred couldn’t place. “Oh wait, he’s also 14, turning 15 in December,” he added quickly after.

“Okay, I guess,” Alfred said with narrowed eyes. Arthur winked at him.

00oo00oo00

**a week passes**

00oo00oo00

Alfred climbed onto the bus, immediately removing his soaked hood. His brothers shuffled onto the bus behind him, both muttering angrily about the weather under their breaths. The rain outside pelted the metal of their bus. Alfred looked to his seat, relieved to find Jaden absent. He flopped down, swinging his backpack off his shoulder and unzipping the smallest pocket. He fished around inside it before he realized that he’d forgotten his earbuds. He groaned quietly, then zipped the pocket back up. 

He shoved his damp backpack between him and the bus’s wall. Alfred crossed his arms over his chest, and watched the raindrops roll down the window. Minutes passed, and his eyelids began to droop. His head kept falling down, and he kept having to yank it back up. He didn’t want to fall asleep on the bus, because he might fall asleep and miss his school. He thought in his hazy mind as to what he could do to keep himself awake.

A thought occurred: he could draw on the window.

A small, sleepy smile crept onto his face as he raised a heavy hand to the window. He pressed his finger to the wet surface, and began drawing. He drew the first thing that came to mind, a cat. A sleeping cat with it’s arms tucked in close to itself and its fluffy tail held high. He finished it by adding a collar and a small circle, which was supposed to be a bell. 

“That’s cute,” he heard a sweet voice say. Alfred turned his head to the source, finding himself once again locking eyes with Ivan, the soft looking boy across from him.

“Thanks,” said Alfred blankly. He didn’t know how else to respond to such a sudden compliment, plus, he figured that thanks was a simple and quick was to reply to such a thing. Ivan smiled at him, pretty pink lips opening to reveal white teeth. Alfred returned the gesture.

“I’m Ivan.” _Aha, so_ had _been right._

“I’m Alfred.” Ivan’s smile grew wider at that, his hands clutching the edge of his seat. He leaned closer to Alfred. He lay with one leg up on the seat behind him, and his other on the ground, the heel of toe his heeled boot tapping rhythmically against the bus’s floor. 

The boots he wore were glossy and black, stopping right below his knee. Light blue ripped jeans with black leggings underneath followed after the boots, the waist disappearing under a mint green turtleneck sweater, the sleeves of which puffed out greatly before coming back down and gripping Ivan’s pale arm tightly. 

It was cute, Alfred though. _Ivan_ was cute.

“I like your outfit,” he commented, watching pleased as Ivan’s face colored slightly.

“Thank you, Alfred. And yours is very nice as well,” Ivan replied sweetly, his voice like sugar. Alfred smiled, thinking Ivan to be a sweet kid. Really, Alfred’s outfit wasn’t that interesting. Just a simple dark blue sweatshirt with black pants and blue sneakers. But he appreciated Ivan’s comment anyway. 

“Do you like cats much?” Ivan asked, gesturing to the drawing on the window. Some water had gathered and ran drops through his drawing, but you could still mostly tell what it was. Alfred looked back at it fondly, then back to Ivan. He shuffled closer to the edge of his seat.

“Yeah, they’re great. My family has 3,” Alfred said coolly, his lips now set in a permanent smirk. Ivan studied his face for a second, gnawing on one of his plump lips before he replied. 

“That’s nice. We have 3 as well, plus 2 dogs. They get along fairly well,” Ivan giggled, covering his face quickly after. “But,” he continued, “sometimes they fight. Like, this one time, our dog Winter chased out cat Koshka around the house for a solid 3 minutes. My mom had to come and restrain Winter so we could get Koshka up into my room where Winter wouldn’t get him. My step dad thought it was the funniest thing.”

“Oh?” Alfred hummed. “Tell me more about these pets of yours.”

“I-I guess I could,” Ivan stammered, his porcelain cheeks filled with red blush. Alfred stared at him intently.

“Then go ahead.”

00oo00oo00

**3 weeks pass**

00oo00oo00

Alfred sat silently at the kitchen table, eating cereal as quickly as he could. He just wanted to eat and, maybe, if he could, go back to sleep. It was a windy Saturday, roughly 10 o’clock. His mom had work today, and wouldn’t be home until 8. That meant he had the whole day to do whatever he wanted in his room without interruption. He was fairly excited. 

The doorbell rang. Alfred rolled his eyes and pushed his chair out behind him. He marched to the door, unlocking it and swinging it open. There stood Ivan, pale hair fluttering in the wind, cheeks stained pink, and pink and black roller blades on his feet.

“Would you like to come outside?” Ivan squeaked nervously, his hands tangled in the cream scarf he wore around his neck. He wore a purple sweatshirt (one that Alfred had seen many times at this point) with a darker purple pocket and sleeves. His black pants stopped high enough to show off his pink striped socks that, Alfred knew, ran up to his mid thigh. He didn’t remember why that had come up in one of their conversations. 

Alfred stayed silent, staring down at Ivan who seemed somehow smaller than the last time he’d seen him. He thought about how Ivan had said, multiple times, that he and his two sisters rode around on bikes and rollerblades almost everyday up the street, and that Alfred should join them. Alfred had always replied with maybe, but he never left his home. It seemed that Ivan had taken the initiative. 

“Sure,” Alfred replied. Ivan’s face lit up, a bright smile plastered across his face. His violet eyes that never failed to make Alfred’s world slow practically glowed with joy. 

“That’s great! You can go ahead and get ready, I’ll wait for you,” Ivan beamed, turning away as Alfred nodded and closed the door. He turned his head to the stairs where his mother stepped down.

“Who was that?” she asked, flicking some of her short blonde hair from her face. 

“A friend from the bus. He lives up the street. I’m gonna go outside and hang out with him,” Alfred said simply and dismissively. His mother raised a brow, but didn’t object.

“Alright, have fun. Don’t go too far,” she said, turning back to return up the stairs and into her room. Alfred nodded to her, and went back over to his half finished bowl of cereal. He stuffed his face, finishing in 3 minutes, quickly rinsed his dishes, and put his shoes on. He shouted goodbye, and walked out the front door.

Ivan looked up from where he stood in Alfred’s driveway. He grinned at Alfred, rolling over to him and practically vibrating with excitement. Alfred stepped down from his porch onto a chalk drawing of a cat.

“Did you do these?” Ivan purred, looking down at the chalk drawings that littered the driveway. 

“Some of them,” Alfred replied, “My mom’s ex husband brought over their daughter two days ago, and we drew with chalk for a while. There were bubbles, too, but she accidentally dropped it and poured it all out.”

“They’re cute,” Ivan cooed, sliding over them and drifting around Alfred’s driveway. Alfred smiled as he rolled about, walking down to the end of the driveway where Ivan met him. “Let’s go then,” Ivan said happily, pushing himself forward.

The two made their way up the street to the cul de sac where Ivan lived. The wind blew, gently sometimes, strong and unforgiving other times. The street went up on a hill, making a sweat break out on Alfred’s skin as he climbed. Ivan rolled beside him, humming to himself cheerfully.

“I think my sisters will like you,” he said out of nowhere. They were almost at the cul de sac now.

“I hope so,” Alfred replied.

They got to the point on the hill where they could clearly see two girls in the driveway, one small and spinning around on rollerblades, the other much older pedaling slowly beside her on a pink and blue bike. They looked up as Ivan and Alfred approached.

“Hey Vanya,” the older girl greeted, her voice bubbly and carefree. The younger girl rolled up to Ivan, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her face into his chest. Alfred watched her do so, staring at Ivan’s chest, fairly round for a boy. He liked it.

“Natalia!” Ivan laughed, petting her hair and patting her back. The little girl, presumably Natalia, looked up, her chin resting between Ivan’s ‘boobs’. Alfred held back a snort.

The elder sister pedaled her biked over, the basket at the front of it containing 3 different colored water bottles, a box of chalk, and what appeared to be a makeshift lunchbox of a brown paper bag.

“Hello there,” she said, hoping off her bike (her breasts bouncing as she did so) and offering Alfred her hand. Alfred took it with a smile. “I’m Katyusha, but everyone calls me Katya, or just Kat, if you’d like.”

“I’m Alfred.” 

Katyusha smiled. “I know.” 

Alfred raised his brows, but was stopped from asking how she knew when Ivan spoke.

“This is Natalia, my little sister, but I think you could already figure that out. She’s 8,” he giggled, running his fingers through the girl’s hair. It was long, running down to her lower back. Ivan reached into his sweatshirt pocket and pulled out a hair tie, quickly putting his sister’s hair in a ponytail. “You need to wear a helmet, Nat,” Ivan muttered to her.

She whined and buried her face in his chest again. Alfred briefly wondered what that might feel like to have his face pressed against Ivan’s soft, round chest. He also wondered how it would feel to grab it, and if Ivan would like it. He was dragged from his thoughts as Ivan spoke again.

“Sometimes we roll around with this other boy, his name is Ludwig, he’s around 10. He has an older brother who doesn’t really like me,” he said as Natalia finally pulled herself away from him and sulked over to their house where a bright blue helmet sat upside down in their yard. 

“His name is Gilbert, right? The brother, I mean,” Alfred asked, walking beside Ivan as he rolled over to where Natalia was. She was now fiddling with the helmet, looking up at her brother for help.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Ivan replied. He stepped into the grass, wobbling over to his sister. He sat down heavily beside her and helped her helmet on. 

“He’s in a couple of my classes. He talks about you sometimes.”

“Only good things, I assume,” Ivan joked, pushing himself to his feet as Natalia ran out of the grass and rolled over to her sister, who was still slowly pedaling in circles around the cul de sac. Alfred shrugged.

“It’s complicated. Weird stuff. Don’t wanna get into it,” Alfred responded curtly. He looked away from Ivan’s curious gaze. Really, Gilbert was a weird kid who wanted to do weird things to his little brother’s friend and he was not afraid to hide it. Alfred kinda hated him sometimes, but Gilbert was mostly cool. Plus, he had a boyfriend now, so he hoped those weird comments about Ivan would stop.

“There’s also these two little Italian brothers who live with their grandpa over there. Ludwig really likes the younger one, Feliciano,” Ivan said, pointing to one of the larger houses on the street that sat up on a higher point of the hill that the cul de sac rested on. Alfred looked back to him, then followed his finger to the house he was gesturing to.

“How old are they?” Alfred asked. He followed Ivan as he rolled around the cul de sac. 

“Feli just turned 11 recently, and his brother, Lovino, is 12.” Alfred hummed in response. Alfred stayed still as Ivan went up to his sister and grabbed the box of chalk from her basket. He thanked her loudly, and sped back to Alfred, offering the box. Alfred took it without complaint. Ivan pulled it open and fished out pink and purple pieces.

“I like doing this. Just watch,” Ivan grinned, sliding away from Alfred and pushing himself up the Italian brother’s driveway. He readied himself at the top, then pushed himself forward, sliding down. He let out loud, high pitched giggles as he did so, leaning down and pressing the chalk to the ground as he passed the edge of the driveway. He moved his arms back and forth, the lines of pink and purple intertwining on the asphalt as he did so. Alfred smiled, watching Ivan’s happy expression, admiring his flushed cheeks and pink lips.

Ivan straightened out again as he slowed down. He grinned at Alfred, laughing as wiggling in place as Alfred approached him.

“Wasn’t that neat?” he beamed. Alfred looked down at him fondly.

“It was. I liked it quite a bit. You’re pretty cute, you know,” Alfred complimented, enjoying Ivan’s face flushing again. “You’re also pretty short,” he added.

Usually Ivan and Alfred were about the same height, though Alfred was taller by 2 inches. But now, Ivan was a solid 4 inches shorter than him. Ivan gave an embarrassed smile and looked down at his feet. 

“I’m actually shorter than this. The rollerblades add an extra inch,” he said sheepishly. Alfred snickered. Ivan looked back up at him and tapped the wheels of one rollerblade against the ground. “I haven’t really hit a growth spurt yet, so I’ve just sort of been trying to make up for it by wearing shoes with higher heels. It’s been working so far.”

Alfred nodded in agreement, looking up and watching Ivan’s two sisters circle the cul de sac. Natalia came up to him and yanked the box of chalk from his hands, causing both Katyusha and Ivan to scold her. Alfred barked a laugh as she explained herself, saying that she just wanted to draw. 

“You could’ve asked him to give the chalk to you,” Katya said with a chuckle, patting the girl’s helmet.

“I didn’t want to,” Natalia huffed, puffing her cheeks out and clutching the box of chalk to her chest. Alfred laughed again and crouched down beside her.

“And why not?” he asked with a grin. 

“I don’t know if I like you yet,” she shot back, pouting as he chuckled at her response. Ivan covered his mouth with his scarf as he giggled with him.

“What might get you to like me?” Alfred chuckled, his elbows on his knees and his hands dangling between his legs. Natalia paused for a moment, looking to the side slightly as she thought. Her eyes widened and a small smile broke out on her face.

“Carry me,” she giggled. 

Alfred shrugged, “Why not.” She giggled again, kneeling down to put the box of chalk down and then springing back up. Alfred turned around and smiled at the ground. “Climb on.” Natalia squealed as he clambered onto his back, laughing loudly as he stood up, lifting her with him. “Wow, you weigh almost nothing,” he teased.

“It’s true,” said Katyusha, bringing her bike up to ride slowly beside Alfred as he marched around the cul de sac with Natalia on his back. Ivan laughed and shook his head, picking up the box of chalk and taking it back to their house where he sat it on their porch. Ivan then sat beside the box and watched the three people make their way around the cul de sac before he turned his head down and worked on taking off his rollerblades. 

Alfred turned his head away for a moment, laughing as Natalia wrapped her arms around his neck. He listened happily to Katyusha and Natalia’s giggles before he looked back to where Ivan had sat, only to find him gone. He felt his heart wrench. He didn’t know why, but seeing Ivan's absence made him want to shove Natalia into Katyusha’s arms and march over to Ivan’s house, storm inside, and find the pale little Russian. But, of course, he didn’t. He just made his full circle around the cul de sac, and with Ivan still not there, he did it again.

About halfway through the second circle, Ivan came back out of the house holding two bowls in his hands. He struggled with the glass door for a moment before it opened and he marched out onto the porch in only his socks.

“Kat! Nat!” Ivan called, sitting down on the edge of the porch and raising the two bowls high. The two sisters looked up immediately, Katyusha quickly pedaling over and dropping her bike into the grass of their yard. She jogged over to her brother, taking one of the bowls and making her way to the rocking chair that sat towards the corner of the porch.

“Go over there! Quick, quick!” Natalia ordered, squirming on Alfred’s back. Alfred chuckled and followed the directions given, jogging over to Ivan. “Let me down please,” Natalia whispered in his ear.

“Sure thing, tiny,” Alfred said, kneeling down to allow Natalia to climb off his back. She giggled and scurried over to Ivan, taking the last bowl from his hands. Alfred walked over and sat down beside Ivan, Natalia quickly climbing into his lap. Alfred raised his brows as he looked down at her.

“Guess she likes you,” Ivan laughed, covering his mouth. Alfred grinned at him, loving Ivan’s returning smile. He stared at Ivan’s pink lips and cheeks and his pale hair and most importantly his violet eyes. He realized he was staring too long, and tore his gaze from Ivan. 

Instead, he looked down at Natalia.

“Watcha eatin?” Alfred asked smoothly, ignoring his quickly beating heart. 

“Chili,” Natalia mumbled through a mouthful of her food. Alfred nodded, staring down at the easily seen beans and meat in the chili. 

“How come you don’t have any?” Alfred purred, turning his eyes back to Ivan. 

“I don’t like chili,” he said with a frown, crossing his arms over his chest. “But,” he continued, “our mom is going to make me something that I really like later. She said it’s a surprise, though.” 

Alfred hummed, “That’s nice of her.”

“It sure is. My mom is the best,” Ivan grinned, turning his big, bright eyes up to Alfred. Alfred’s heartbeat quickened again. 

“Our mom is the best,” Katyusha agreed from behind them. Alfred turned to look at her, finding her swinging open the glass door and pushing past their wooden door to return her bowl to the house. 

“Sure is!” Natalia concurred. She shoved another spoonful of chili into her mouth. “I love chili,” he declared. Alfred laughed loudly as Ivan fake gagged. 

That night, Alfred slept soundly knowing he was a full 5 inches taller than Ivan

00oo00oo00

**a month passes**

00oo00oo00

Saturday at noon. Alfred sat on the couch, shoes already on his feet, barely paying attention to the cooking show Matthew had put on in a desperate attempt to distract Arthur so he could help their mother prepare lunch. Lunch was of course over by now, and everyone had returned to their rooms, but the show still played.

The doorbell rang. Alfred grabbed the TV remote and turned the TV off, standing up and walking to the door. He shouted goodbye, and swung the door open. There stood Ivan, this time without the rollerblades, dressed in a tight fitting sweater of rich red, cropped about an inch shorter than the rest of his sweaters, along with black pants and boots. His cream scarf was, at this point, a constant. 

“No rollerblades?” Alfred purred as he shut the door behind him. Ivan smiled widely, his hands playing with the tails of his scarf.

“No, not today. My sisters aren’t here. They went to see their dad for the weekend,” he replied, hopping off the porch and sitting down on the edge. Alfred raised a brow, but did the same.

“Their dad?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Ivan said, “they’re my half sisters.”

“And you never felt the need to mention this before?” 

“No, not really. I don’t really think of them as half sisters. They’re just my sisters.”

Alfred hummed, “How did you happen, then? You’re the middle child.”

“My mom broke up with their dad, got with my dad, then got back with my sister’s dad.”

Alfred nodded. They sat quietly for a moment, until Ivan spoke again.

“What’re we going to do then?” Ivan asked, looking up at Alfred with his big round eyes.

“Have you ever been in the shale pit?” Alfred murmured, meeting Ivan’s eyes with his own cool gaze. Ivan shook his head. “We’ll go there, then. Follow me,” he instructed. He stood up and made his way around to the back of his house, Ivan following close behind. 

They marched through Alfred’s backyard. Near the back it was lined with trees, though a short path between them lead to the shale pit, a large area with huge rocks, piles of dirt and gravel, 3 construction vehicles, one cliff shaped hill, and a forest lining the back of it that sat up on a steep hill. 

“Wow. It’s big,” Ivan stated. 

“That’s what she said,” Alfred replied. 

Ivan snorted.

The two then made their way down the steep hill that appeared right after the small path they’d followed. Ivan dug a thorn out of his sleeve, grumbling about a small scratch in his skin. Alfred chuckled and shook his head. 

They spent the better part of an hour running around the shale pit. Alfred had climbed a large pile of dirty rocks, and then convinced Ivan to climb up after him. Ivan’s sweater had gotten caught on a particularly sharp rock, and now an area near his stomach was torn. He had assured Alfred that his mother would fix it and that it wasn’t a big deal. They also climbed onto the equipment, one of them being a bulldozer. Alfred told Ivan a story about how when he and his brothers had come here when they were younger they found a dead baby bird on the bulldozer and Matthew had thrown up. Ivan had laughed at the end, but was still upset about the baby bird.

Eventually, they found themselves in the middle of the shale pit, Ivan staring off at the woods and Alfred staring at him.

“Do you wanna go in the woods over there? I know a little place where we could rest,” Alfred suggested after a moment of silence. Ivan turned to look at him, a small smile on his face.

“I think that’d be cool,” he said. “We should go.”

“We should,” Alfred agreed. 

He walked off towards the woods, Ivan jogging up to walk beside him. He beamed up at Alfred, and Alfred smirked down at him. They soon broke into the trees, Ivan sighing at the pleasantness of the shade they brought. Alfred merely hummed as they entered. Alfred led Ivan through the woods expertly, moving swiftly and with confidence as he made his way to the place where they could rest.

Alfred arrived first, Ivan trailing behind him and watching as Alfred flopped down. He sat against a particularly thick tree, several large branches forming a roof over his head, as well as leaves and moss dangling over the edge, and covering the ground. It looked cozy. Alfred patted the ground beside him with a grin. Ivan smiled back and sat beside him.

He breathed softly beside Alfred, his legs pulled up to his chest and his eyes trained to the ground. His arms stayed at his sides, his hands pressing into the cool ground. Alfred stared at Ivan, watching his round chest move with each of his even breaths, admiring his pale hair and skin and how it looked in the shade. His eyes trailed down to the tear in Ivan’s sweater, and he watched Ivan’s stomach move with each breath. The skin there looked soft. Alfred smiled at the thought. 

He suddenly felt a hand on his, and Alfred looked down. He stared at Ivan’s hand resting atop his, then looked up at Ivan. Ivan stared right into his eyes. The boy moved his other hand on top of Alfred’s again, piling them both on as he bit his lip. Ivan shifted, sitting mostly on his hip with his legs laying on the ground, bent slightly. Alfred’s eyes rolled over to look at the curve of Ivan’s calves and thighs. He licked his lips, looking back to Ivan’s eyes.

“I really like you,” Ivan said simply with big, watery eyes. “I have for a while, every since I first saw you. And, I remember when these feelings really started to pick up was when you yelled at that kid. That time you caught me staring at you. It did things to me,” he muttered. He leaned closer to Alfred, only slightly.

“Oh?” Alfred whispered, “What things?”

Ivan looked away, briefly, his face flushed, searching for words to describe.

“It made me… it made me want to do things to myself. It made me want you to do things to me,” he stammered.

“Like what?” purred Alfred. 

Ivan’s face was redder than it's ever been, and Alfred found it to be one of the cutest things he’d ever seen. 

“I.. It makes me want you to t-touch me. I want you to touch me,” Ivan declared, boldly leaning closer to Alfred, the distance he crossed more noticeable this time. Alfred smirked and brought his hand over to rest on Ivan’s hip.

“You do?” Alfred asked teasingly. Ivan nodded his head eagerly in response, his quivering lips forming a shaky smile. Alfred bit the inside of his cheek, eyes trained on Ivan’s plump, wet lips. Without warning, he dove in, pressing his lips to Ivan’s in a kiss. Ivan kissed back almost immediately, whining and pressing closer to Alfred. He moved his hands away from holding Alfred’s one hand up to paw at Alfred’s chest. Alfred chuckled into the kiss. 

When he pulled away, Ivan was panting and squirming where he sat, desperately squirming closer. With his hand now free, Alfred moved it to rest on Ivan’s other hip. In one swift movement Alfred lifted Ivan up and put the boy in his lap. Ivan squeaked as he did this, wriggling as he was placed down straddling Alfred’s hips. 

Alfred grinned at him, his hands rubbing and pinching the skin on Ivan’s hips. He then trailed his hands to Ivan’s stomach, pressing his fingers into the flesh there. Ivan whimpered and leaned closer to Alfred, his wet lips pressing towards Alfred’s. Alfred obliged, leaning in and kissing Ivan again, opening his mouth. Ivan opened his mouth as well, letting his tongue slide out and rub sloppily against Alfred’s. He moaned into the kiss as Alfred trailed his hands up to grab at Ivan’s round chest. 

Alfred broke the kiss.

“Soft,” he muttered as he squeezed Ivan’s chest. He angled his head to better look at it, smiling at the sight of Ivan’s nipples poking through the sweater he wore. Ivan let out a high pitched whine as Alfred's fingers brushed over his nipples. "Cute," he cooed in Ivan's ear. 

He tugged away Ivan's scarf, letting it hang off Ivan's shoulders as he buried his face in Ivan's neck. He licked at the skin there, nipping and biting and sucking, earning all kinds of sweet sounds from Ivan. Ivan began rocking his hips, pushing them down against Alfred's. Alfred grunted, his hands flying down to grip Ivan's hips tightly.

Ivan whimpered, "Don't leave marks." 

"I'll do what I want," Alfred growled, biting down on Ivan's neck suddenly. Ivan cried out, his back arching slightly and his hands grasping at Alfred's shoulders. His nails dug through Alfred's shirt.

Alfred pulled back for a moment, licking and sucking where he'd bit Ivan. He pressed kisses to the mark with pleased hums that mixed with Ivan's whimpers and quiet moans. 

"Do you wanna be my boyfriend?" Alfred purred into Ivan's neck. Ivan wiggled his hips again, pressing his ass down against Alfred's very clear erection.

"Yes please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jaden isn't an oc or anything, it's just the girl that sits beside me on the bus as a boy  
I felt it was more fitting, and I didn't really wanna make Alfred yell at any of the hetalia characters except for Iceland because I hate him but I feel his personality wouldn't allow him to have a seat on the outside of the bus seat  
this whole story is kinda based off the friendship I have with the girl up the street  
I'm not in love with her, and she's not in love with me tho  
I really like her little sister, but I kind of had to alter her personality to fit Natalia better  
I had to change a lot of things, actaully  
but it's not like that matters too much  
I'm lowkey mega tired when I'm finsihing this, and posting it I think  
I do not have the energy for anything hehe :))))


	16. hhhhhgfnfnggh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't fucking know

He’s sitting in a dark room. His hands are cold, but so is the rest of him. The light from his tv is dim, but still enough to be noticeable. He’s facing away from it. He’s lying on his side, staring blankly at his wall. He feels empty, he feels broken. He reaches for his phone with the cracked screen. It’s silly, really. Silly to react this way to something so small and ridiculous. But he always feels like this. He’s just letting himself stew in it now.

When his phone lights up he winces and closes his eyes. He prys them open and checks. Still no reply. Of course there wouldn’t be a reply. Why would there be one. It was just so so stupid. He was stupid. Why was he even still here anymore. He should probably just disappear. It would make everything better. For him, at least. But his sisters would be sad. 

He drops the phone back onto his bed and rolls onto his back. His fan is spinning slowly on the ceiling. He’s cold. He should probably turn it off, but he can’t muster up the energy to sit up and then reach up and then grab the switch and pull it down and….. It’s just. Too much right now. He lets his head fall to the side as he thinks about how nice it would be if he turned the fan off. He imagines himself dragging himself into a sitting position and turning off the fan, which then spurs him to keep going and get himself comfortable, maybe turn on a light or a tv show or a movie, or turn off the tv and go to bed. Sleep would be good. But he knew he would be awake for hours. 

He barely reacts when he hears his phone buzz. Just his eyes widening slightly, nothing too quick or sudden. He whines as he rolls over again, stares blankly at his phone, now lit up. He reaches for it and frowns at the cracks running along the screen (He was pretty sure he was frowning before, too). He shouldn't have thrown it. Poor little guy. 

His thoughts switch gears as he unlocks his phone, quick in finding the source of the buzz. It’s a text from Alfred. His eyes burn with tears as he reads the message, and he blames it on the brightness of his phone screen.

_ Hey Ivan, sorry it took me so long to respond, was just doin some thinkin. And sorry if that stressed you out or anything, really didn’t mean to. About what you said. I guess I never really thought about you like that. But, well, now that I have, it’s weird. I know I feel different about you now, but I can’t name it. So, I guess we could go on a date. Just to test the waters and stuff, y’know. It’s weird typing properly. _

Ivan wants to scream and throw his phone at the wall again, though that was in a different room, and he thinks about the dent in the wall and how his sisters freaked out, and he doesn’t want to throw his phone anymore. His hands shake as he clutches his phone and brings it closer to his face. His heart is racing and he’s trying to reread it, but he’s crying too hard. He wants to slam his head against a wall, but he’s not sure why.

He didn’t think he’d get this far.

He barely even registers that he’s typing out a reply, but it’s probably better this way. He would probably think too much about it when trying to respond, and before he knew it it would be an hour later. He’s done that before. His heart stops when he realizes he didn’t reread it before sending it to check for errors, but that's probably for the best too.

_ Of course! That sounds great, I’d love to go out with you _ :)

He thinks himself lucky that there weren’t any spelling errors. Alfred’s reply comes quick this time. Ivan hates the smile that crosses his face. He knows it looks bad. He can’t smile properly. He feels bad that all of a sudden he felt good. He had just felt so cold and empty and lonely, but now here he was smiling at his phone and at Alfred’s response. But Alfred always had that sort of effect on him, it was probably why Ivan was so drawn to him. He felt like he was faking his sadness with how quickly his mood shifted, but he tried to push it away. He just. Didn’t want to deal with that right now. He’d had enough. He just wanted to think about Alfred right now. Just. Alfred.

“_Who wouldnt?_” was Alfred’s reply. Ivan smiled wider. He felt giddy. He felt angry at himself as well. He felt also strangely empty. He didn’t like the mix of emotions. He’d pick one for now and deal with the others later. He gets another text from a groupchat he was in with friends. It’s Felix. 

_ Wtf Alfred’s gf is a homophobe _

_ *ex _

Everyone asks for clarification. He sends screenshots of some stupid tweets Rebecca (Alfred’s new ex) had made recently. “What the hell Alfred just broke up with me because some stupid twink he’s friends with confessed to him. filthy fucking faggot.'' Everyone in the chat reacts in various ways, but Ivan ignores them. He shuts off his phone and lays it on his bed beside him. He feels tired and confused, angry at himself and his emotions and how Alfred has him wrapped around his finger without even meaning to. Alfred broke up with his girlfriend because of Ivan. He feels guilty for destroying a perfectly fine relationship, he feels confused as to why Alfred would do that. He could’ve just played it off as a meeting between friends and Rebecca would’ve been none the wiser. Whatever. He decides to be happy. He wants Alfred to hold him and kiss his forehead and tell him everything is going to be fine.

But that could wait. He’s tired. And cold. He looks up at the ceiling again and sighs. He gathers himself and sits up slowly. He turns the fan off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word f word this is dedication

**Author's Note:**

> boop de doop


End file.
